


One Foot on the Ground

by Poose



Series: Technosocial [1]
Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Multi, Original Characters - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Relationship(s), Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-23
Updated: 2011-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 21:37:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 64,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poose/pseuds/Poose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A/N: This whole piece is really nothing more than a love letter to the fabulous performance of one Mr. Jesse Eisenberg in TSN. I know that sounds kind of creeper-y, but there you have it. I was trying to read what was behind his eyes the whole time, and this is what I saw.</p><p>For the prompt: Mark is a huge slut.<br/>[Title from Regina Spektor's Fidelity]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

Mark has been confused for a while now, confused by the attention being paid to him by the clear-skinned junior in his Art History class. He says “Hey,” on the way in to the lectures, and sometimes Mark will feel probing eyes on the side of his face, and turn around, to find himself being scrutinized. The guy -- floppy blond hair that looks effortless, an aquiline nose, so probably not Jewish -- is clearly old New England. He moves with the kind of casual offhandedness that Mark will never understand how to pull off. Summers on Martha’s Vineyard, navy blue blazers with shiny brass buttons. He comes up to Mark after a Tuesday night discussion section and suggests they get a beer. Mark nods, dumbfounded.

Maybe the guy wants help in an OS class or something. Guys with noses like that, jawlines like that never try to befriend Mark unless he can do them a solid, and he hates himself for giving in (inevitably doing someone’s problem set, just to feel peripherally important), but he does it anyways.

His name is Hunter and he takes Mark to the Thirsty Scholar. He knows the doorman (that guy Erica totally used to fuck), who lets them in, though he gives Mark a shady glare. The guy talks a lot, about lacrosse and his Expos class from freshman year, and he keeps buying pints and Jaeger shots. Mark gets progressively drunker, though his posture stays rigid and his jaw remains tense.

Hunter lets it slip that he’s a member of the Owl. Teddy Kennedy got punched by them, and what’s better than a few degrees of separation from a Kennedy, even if it was just Teddy? They made it in just after a generation, even if old Joe was no better than a gangster.

That gets Mark’s attention, for the the first time that night, since they started knocking back drinks a couple of hours ago. It’s basically like the first thing he’s really heard.

“So, um, do you like to party?” he asks Mark, looking up at him coyly. He's got really white teeth. He probably didn't even need braces as a teenager.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Mark shrugs. _Final clubs, final clubs._ He wants in. Is this like a proving ground? Maybe he’s being tested. Maybe he's gonna get punched. That would fucking show Eduardo. Diversity thing? _Fuck that, he's better than that_.

He sits up straighter, pulls his hand from his hoodie pocket and places it on the table, drumming his fingers. Hunter’s eyes flick over him, appraisingly. He covers Mark’s hand with his own -- whoa, _what?_ Is this, like, a date?

He doesn’t say anything, since he’s never good at reading the signs. Other guys touch, slaps on the back and shit. Football players half spank each other. This dude, Hunter, he plays lacrosse. Maybe he’s just friendly or something.

Hunter drains the rest of his pint in two swallows, then leans in and says, quietly, “Do you want to come back to my room. I’m in Lowell.” Lowell is close, just up the street from the club, Mount Auburn Street facing Mount Holyoke Place, fuck, yes he wants to go back there. He’s pushing his chair back and standing up, hurriedly. “Now?” he stammers out. Hunter looks up at him and says quietly, “You should finish your beer first, man,” and Mark gulps it down, letting his throat open easily to shotgun the rest. Hunter quirks an eye up at him as he wipes the foam off his top lip with a stiff hand, shakes his head, and heads for the door. Mark follows him. 

Hunter lives in a double, but there’s no sign of his roommate. He lets Mark in first, pausing to scribble an undecipherable note on the whiteboard hanging from the door. Then he roots around in the minifridge and thrusts another beer into Mark’s hands, a Beck’s this time, which he doesn’t drink too much of. He’s kind of hammered, hammered enough to be aware of the subtext -- and he never catches the damn subtext.

They sit side-by-side on Hunter’s twin bed. It has a plaid slipcover and has been tightly made, with hospital corners. Mark wonders if they have a family tartan or whatever. Hunter doesn't care which of the Twelve Tribes he's descended from (Simeon), Mark thinks, blinking rapidly, because his history is _here_ , not in the old country. He tucks his lip under his teeth, trying to guess if Hunter is the kind of guy who pays a private cleaning service to take care if his dorm room; if he's never had a chore wheel or done his own laundry.

He keeps one hand in his pocket, curling it up into a ball when Hunter swiftly puts a hand on his knee. He still doesn’t know what this is, but it’s not actually cool to ask.

They ask you when _they’re_ ready, it’s not like AEPi and rushing (punching is just a rush in reverse, is what a fucking punch is). Hunter doesn’t look at him, just rests his hand there, squeezing very slightly. It’s totally direct. Not awkward, bet this guy never fucking feels awkward. He belongs in every room he walks into.

Mark wants to pipe up, tell him, _yo, man, I’ve got -- had, I had a girlfriend,_

So when he feels a hand cupping his balls, like, pretty much right away,he flinches. Flinches and starts getting hard, which, holy _what_? Hunter chuckles, and it sounds sort of malevolent. Mark licks his lips and he, really does, want to say something. “I’m not...erm,” he spits out, “I’m not _you know_ ,” and Hunter nods, in profile. “Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I’m not either. But you’re here, and I’m here. We’re both kind of wasted, and I think it would be hot if you gave me a blowjob. Wanna?” he breathes out, squeezing Mark through his sweats.

Mark bristles, because it’s so goddamn direct, but, this guy’s all right and _\-- Ted Kennedy-lacrosse-Connecticut country club-maybe-getting punched-by-the-Owl--_ that’s surely worth a bit of a compromise. They probably get up to all kinds of kinky shit, in the clubs. Might as well learn what's what. And he’s got to get their attention somehow, and if this is how then this is how.

“Uh,” he coughs out. “Uh, sure. If, that’s, you-- right. Okay,” he says, twisting around trying to figure out where to set down his bottle. Hunter plucks it from his fingers and sets it on the standard-issue oak-laminate bedside table. Mark fiddles with his fingers, watching Hunter unfasten his pants and pull his dick out.

It’s not like he’s never seen another guy’s stiffy before, hell, they’ve got an open-plan room and Chris is always whacking off to wallpapers of Xeni Jardin during Shark Week commercials -- but he’s never sucked Chris off, either. Why would he? There’s no social status to be gained by blowing anyone from Dworkin. 

Mark rubs his hands on his sweats, feeling the scratchy pilled fabric underneath. He’s super unsure of what to do, in this situation, so he’s kind of relieved when Hunter starts talking as he fists his dick. Mark keeps ducking glances at it _\--- bigger? smaller? circumcised?_ \-- as Hunter talks, one hand casually pulling on his cock, the other still swigging from his beer bottle. He tips back the last foamy swallow, the backsplashy bits, and asks to the space between his legs, “You ever blown anyone before?”

“Um,” Mark says, “No, not -- not really.”

Hunter laughs again, letting go of his hard-on to tap Mark on the shoulder. “Go on,” he says, eyes glazing past Mark’s face and resting on his crotch, the bulge that keeps swelling between his legs. Is he supposed to take his pants off? What is the proper etiquette for this turn of events? He can’t exactly ask for advice in the Crimson or query Miss Manners.

“Right, sure,” he says, slipping down off the bed and sitting back on his heels. It smells sweatier from down here. “Am I--”

“I’ll talk you through it, if you want,” Hunter tells him, which is a sweet relief. He can take direction -- rub a hand there, put your lips there, move your hips like _that._ Direction he can do. It’s the other stuff that makes no sense, the blurbs of text in magazines like _Details_ that say “touch her lower back,” and “kiss along her neck” and “the armpit can be a tremendous erogenous zone for many women.” It all feels pretty much the same to him.

Hunter reaches out and traces a finger down Mark’s jawline and then thumbs his mouth open, running the pad of his finger along the inside of his lower lip. His fingers taste like salted peanuts. Mark swipes his tongue out again when Hunter moves his hand away, the other man groaning when he does that.

“Jesus. You have the hottest fucking mouth, Zuckerberg,” he says, slipping his left hand into Mark’s curls, guiding the head of his cock towards his open mouth with his right. “It’s been a lot more fun to look at than those dull-ass slides of the Italian Renaissance or what have you, that’s for fucking sure. Hold still, okay?” he asks, although it’s not got enough of a pause for a real query:

 _## (r1)  
def query_yes_no_quit(question, default="yes"):_ _  
"""Ask a yes/no/quit question via raw_input() and return their answer._

 _"question" is a string that is presented to the user.  
"default" is the presumed answer if the user just hits ._ _  
It must be "yes" (the default), "no", "quit" or None (meaning_ _  
an answer is required of the user)._

 _The "answer" return value is one of "yes", "no" or "quit".  
"""_ _  
valid = {"yes":"yes", "y":"yes", "ye":"yes",_ _  
"no":"no", "n":"no",_ _  
"quit":"quit", "qui":"quit", "qu":"quit", "q":"quit"}_ _  
if default == None:_ _  
prompt = " [y/n/q] "_ _  
elif default == "yes":_ _  
prompt = " [Y/n/q] "_ _  
elif default == "no":_ _  
prompt = " [y/N/q] "_ _  
elif default == "quit":_ _  
prompt = " [y/n/Q] "_ _  
else:_ _  
raise ValueError("invalid default answer: '%s'" % default)_

 _while 1:  
sys.stdout.write(question + prompt)_ _  
choice = raw_input().lower()_ _  
if default is not None and choice == '':_ _  
return default_ _  
elif choice in valid.keys():_ _  
return valid[choice]_ _  
else:_ _  
sys.stdout.write("Please respond with 'yes', 'no' or 'quit'.\n")_

 _  
##end of code   
_

_  
QUESTION [Y/n/q]   
...validate...   
_

_  
Y   
_

Hunter rubs his gleaming cockhead across Mark’s parted lips and sighs from above him on the bed. Mark’s just sitting there, a little intoxicated from alcohol, a little more intoxicated from having a strange dick pushing up against his lips by a guy he only started talking to three hours ago. There’s slippery stuff on his lips, and he licks them again. He could use some Chapstick, he likes the taste of Chapstick.

Mark closes his eyes. Hunter keeps the lights on. 

“Open,” Hunter says, and Mark listens. He feels the head slip across his tongue and it’s foreign, but kind of familiar. It's hot and feels alive, for one thing. But then again, he’s always got something in there -- a needle-tipped dart, the rounded glass of a beer bottle. This isn’t so terribly different, he thinks, opening his mouth a little wider.

Hunter groans and says, “Oh, _fuck,_ man.” He starts to move back and forth, just a few slick inches, leaking a bitter trail across his tongue. Mark keeps his jaw slack, lets the hand in his hair do the work for him. This is actually pretty easy. He’s just a receptacle, not having to really make any effort. As far as sex goes, he could live with this.

“Just stay like that,” Hunter rasps out, “and watch the fuck out with your teeth.”

Mark instinctively curls his lips over his teeth to make a smooth surface and the fingers in his hair pull tighter. “You _fucker,_ ” he breathes out, “sure you haven’t done this before?”

That’s not a question he’s meant to answer, but Mark still feels weirdly proud of the noises Hunter is making, the huffs of breath as his cock flexes in his mouth. It’s totally different from the miserable times he went down on Erica, who kept moving his head -- “to the right, down, down, _there_ , there, stay there”-- and relished telling him everything he was doing wrong. In excruciating detail. This is wonderfully uncomplicated, just something to latch on to and suckle with his eyes closed.

Hunter is basically fucking his mouth, Mark realizes, working his hips back and forth on the edge of the mattress. He has to stop a few times to catch his breath, wet his lips again. Every time he does that Hunter looks down at him, down at his tongue and whistles under his breath, _"Jesus."_

The pace speeds up. Mark has his eyes closed tightly. His jaw is starting to feel strained at the hinge below his ear, and he rubs it with two fingers. Hunter hasn’t said anything about jacking off, so he’s still got his sweats on. His cock is hard, and he’d like to come, at some point. The urgency isn’t his own, though, it’s coming from the man looming over him, watching him.

Hunter bucks his hips and Mark presses harder into the sore place on his jaw. That twinge of pain sends a jolt of pleasure down his spine, which is sort of cool. It’s different. Hunter makes a fist in Mark’s hair, the smell of sweat rising from his crotch. “I’m gonna come soon,” he grunts out, “I’m gonna come in your mouth.” It’s not a question. He doesn’t expect an answer. Ten more harsh thrusts and he grimaces, feeling the bump against his uvula. He gags a little when his mouth goes hot with splashes. It tastes like shellfish, salty and forbidden. He’s not sure what to do with it, just holds it on his tongue and winces as Hunter pulls out. The instinct is to swallow or recoil.

Mark flounders up for the empty beer bottle and spits into it as best he can, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. He’s still sprawled on the floor, and watches Hunter put his softening cock back in his pants. Button-fly jeans, way too much work. He reaches over for Mark’s undrunk beer and pounds half of it, then hands the bottle to Mark, who swills it in his mouth and swallows. It tastes flat, bitter. There must be traces of semen on his tongue, probably, so it’s almost like he’s swallowed.

“Uh,” he says.

“Yeah,” says Hunter. “Listen, thanks. Probably my roommate will be back soon. So you should probably, like, head out. But I'll see you in class.”

“Okay,” he nods, finishing the beer and pushing himself to his feet. He still has an erection tenting the front of his sweats. It stays there as he stamps down the stairs and out the door and rushes back to Kirkland. He goes straight into the shower and jerks off under the spray. He pushes on his sore jawbone while he masturbates, and comes in two minutes flat. 

*

He doesn’t get enough sleep for the rest of that week. Blocks of coding time, solid stretches of white on black and fingers flying over keys, he ekes those out. But he’s tired and they feel slower because he keeps being aware of a fizzy feeling in his groin, like an overagitated can of Mountain Dew. He still keeps going, typing and writing and powering through, but every quarter of an hour he winces, loses his breath, loses his place. He can’t just channel the code through the tips of his fingers because he keeps _feeling_ it all over again. And Mark _doesn’t do feelings,_ so this is novel, strange.

Mark’s never been so aware of his body when he writes, and that in and of itself is kind of sweet. He can’t really type one-handed, but when he feels himself flagging, the sandy tiredness collapsing his shoulders, he sticks his hand back down and squeezes. Like a little reward.

It makes pissing harder, having a pervasive hard-on, but holding out the promise of an orgasm is actually a pretty great incentive. _I’ll touch it every fifty lines,_ he thinks, _and at the end of five hundred I’ll jerk off._

*

He does just that, even when Dustin and Chris come and go, despite them being in the next room shouting over Counter Strike. He gets so much done over the next three days that he misses most of his classes, the days and nights bleeding into a haze of Red Bull and water-packed tuna eaten straight from the can.

He thinks of kneeling on the bare linoleum between parted legs. Of Hunter's drunkenly glazed indifference. Kneeling felt nice, it felt right. The contact breaking the blood vessels under his bony knees. That felt really good, the cold press of the linoleum through his pants. The burn in his jaw. How he liked that sliver of bright pain, and he could have knelt there for hours, taking instructions.

Another gut punch, a shiver along his tailbone. Mark sits up, grinding his index and forefingers into the soft indented space right under his kneecaps. There’s an anxious twinge, an ache. A tiny jolt of pain, kind of electric. It makes his dick twitch.

Mark bites on his lower lip and then does something weird. He sticks two fingers into his mouth and starts licking on them, sucking on them. They don’t feel the same as Hunter’s dick did, they’re more narrow and rough, with nails.

He swirls his tongue around, remembering Erica doing a similar trick the second-to-last-time she blew him. Lying on the bed in her dorm room, a curtain of dark hair blocking his view, until she held it back with her hands so he could watch. Watching was surreal. His dick being swallowed by her mouth. Doing filthy things with her pretty face, her sweet mouth. He got off, but he still wasn't sure if he liked it. It felt dirty.

Mark suddenly wonders what he looked like when _he_ was giving head. It's not like he wants pictures, but he hopes he did okay. He got Hunter off, which has to count for something. He drags his teeth along his fingers, wondering if doing it like that would hurt. Maybe he'll ask, if there's a next time.

Mark tries to add a third finger into his mouth, instantly losing the tight suction he’s built up. He imagines that his fingers are Hunter’s dick, sliding forcefully in and out of his mouth. Mark groans, trying to stuff them in all the way, up to the knuckles. 

That makes his mouth go floppy, so he drops back down to two. He licks them, he hollows his cheeks. He's trying to learn by doing. Mark has never been one to scrutinize a girl when she’s going down on him -- that seems invasive, as if having a dick in your mouth wasn’t invasive enough. But in his spare moments he’s been Googling "how to give great head," and watching some snippets of amateur porn. It's not worth paying for, and it's not shit he wants cluttering his hard drive anyways.

Mark drops one hand down and palms his cock through his sweats, the same navy sweats he had on two nights ago. He doubles forward over the keyboard, fingers still thrusting in and out of his mouth. He can feel the same ache building at the base of his jaw, and that feels so good. It’s like a punch in the gut.

He remembers the slick sensation of Hunter’s cock on his tongue, heavy and humid, and reaches down the front of his own pants to tug forcefully a few times, pumping into his fist. He comes in his hand, trying not to bite down on his fingers in the process.

*  
Wardo drops by on Friday evening. Mark crashed at three in the afternoon but he’s still totally wiped. Eduardo wants to go out for fish tacos. An excuse to tell Mark all about the Phoenix and the popularity contest that he’s acing so effortlessly. He offers to buy (like it would be any other way).

He barely registers the walk to Church Street, just finds himself staring out a fogged-up window with a salt-rimmed margarita thrust into his hands. They eat and Wardo is mind-bogglingly cheerful. Mark watches him chew and scarf salsa. He babbles about his Ec session. They stop off on the way back to Kirkland, hitting up the CVS for two six-packs of Corona and peanut M&M’s.

Mark stares hard at every generic blond guy that walks past them on the way back. He wants Wardo to go to his own room so he can masturbate again. Wardo stays until long past midnight.

*

He sees Hunter at the morning lecture the following Monday, where Professor Hauser is talking his way through a really amateurish Power Point, droning on and on through hundred of slides covered in, like, 8 point Times New Roman. Mark is bored as shit, yawning constantly from his aisle seat in the lecture hall.

Every once in a while a picture will pop up -- a sprawling fat naked woman or a chiseled athlete draped in folds of fabric -- and he flicks his eyes up at those. Mentally he compares them to the naked bodies he's seen, mostly just his own. He resembles them, at least more than action stars or something. Weren't the ancient Greeks and Romans total perverts? Amongst all the feasts and weddings and creepy portraits of the baby Jesus in his textbooks, there are other pictures. Suggestive pictures. Mark makes a mental note to look into this later on.

He stands up, kind of casually when the talk’s over, thinking maybe he and Hunter can, get coffee or whatever it is that one does after a sex encounter with a classmate. Sex friends? No, _fuck buddies_ , isn't that what people say? Hunter is talking with a pretty brunette girl wearing a headband. He glances at Mark, eyes simply skimming past his shoulder as he walks up the steps and out the door.

*

He eats dinner with Chris and Dustin in the d-hall, stealing a large paper cup of Frosted Flakes mixed with Lucky Charms to eat later while he works. He puts on his headphones, sets two cans of Red Bull at his elbow. The code comes fast and furious that night, his fingers barely touch the keys. The guys fall asleep in a drunken tangle on the sofa. It’s getting light outside by the time he notices it’s morning, and he only does so because he has to go to the bathroom to take a shit.

*

Hunter isn’t in the discussion section on Tuesday evening. Maybe he has a lacrosse game or something. But no, he checked the Crimson sports schedule online, and lacrosse is definitely a springtime game. There are fall leagues, though. He also looked at the team roster, the history, and the pictures, just to be thorough.

So he probably isn’t practicing. That doesn’t stop Mark from making the long trek across the Charles, down by the boat houses and the field houses, the stadium and the pool. It smells chlorinated down there, and Mark’s legs are cold. He needs to do laundry, his sweats are nasty.

He stands outside the Murr Center, kicking his toes against the rusty brick. Varsity athletes leave in clumps of twos and threes, carrying mysterious bundles of equipment, strangely shaped bags and instruments. Their breath is steamy in the chilly air, and they’re always laughing when they walk out the door. They clap one another on the back and say things like "party" and "d-bag" and "the Cape."

Mark stays there a long time, one hand hanging out in his pocket, watching guys in grey sweatpants come and go. Some of them give him weird looks, but mostly they just ignore him.

*   
Mark writes more code the next night, a long damn night which bleeds into Thursday. He wakes up, startled, with his head slipping off his keyboard, lolling off the desk. He twists up his mouth angrily at the time on the bottom right-hand side of the screen -- 7:19. He has a ten o’clock class, nothing interesting. Writing or something boring. Next semester he’s not registering for anything before noon.

He rubs a hand across his gritty eyes and squints more closely at the monitor. Mark practically jumps back out of his chair when he realizes that he fell asleep _at his desk_ with Google images [safe search OFF] up on the screen. He hastily X’s out of the window, Jesus, _windows_ and erases the browser history, clears the cache. He stands up and rubs his forearm across the screen, trying to wipe away the dust and fingerprints with his fleece.

Dustin has made it to his bed, Mark notices, while Chris is still conked out on the couch. He flops into his own bed and pulls the covers over his head. He needs to pee, really badly, but he doesn’t think he can until his hard-on goes away.

*   
The weekend passes in the usual blur. He tries to catch up on some homework, since he’s falling behind in every single one of his classes, especially Art History, which he just does not give two shits about. He’s supposed to write a paper about Titian. Oh, the joys of a liberal arts education, though, with its balanced fucking courseload. He should be _glad_ to be at Harvard, the social epicenter of the universe, be glad he’s not dorking it out across town at MIT, across the country at Caltech.

Sunday evening he goes to the Fine Arts Library with just his textbooks, a totally necessary break from coding at all hours. It’s a halfhearted attempt to get in the mood for school, which is failing to hold his interest in the slightest. He can always find six, eight, ten hours to write code; writing bullshit essays is something else entirely. Mark reads the same paragraph five times over and decides what he needs, really, is a drink. He sends Wardo a text, because it’s dull to go out on your own.

Two minutes later he gets a reply--

 _I’m in a study session for Macros. Your room later?_

Mark texts back, as he’s grabbing his backpack up from the floor.

 _Okay. Bring booze._

*

However, when he gets back to Kirkland, there’s a note on the whiteboard in handwriting he doesn’t recognize. It’s not a threat or an insult, but an invitation:   
__

_Stopped by. Lowell party tonight. Starts at eight. H_

Mark’s stomach lurches when he figures out what the message means. He looks at the time on his phone -- 9:28 and leaves without even setting foot in his room.

*   
It’s not really much of a party, Mark finds, when he gets there. Sunday night isn't when you pull out the big guns. He’s panting slightly from trotting back to the center of campus. His mind turns over and over on the way there, a confused tangle of internet pictures and remembered sensations.

A couple of dozen kids in jeans and sweaters are standing around the common room, getting progressively drunker. There’s Seagram’s gin and cartons of pulp-free orange juice on the table. Mark thinks he can smell pot, and his cheeks feel hot. Mark looks around uncomfortably, feeling suddenly acutely stupid with his backpack. No one else has a backpack, probably because they all live here. He should have left it in his room, and, damn, taken a shower or something. It’s as he’s ducking his nose toward his armpit, sniffing cautiously to see if he stinks, that Hunter comes out of nowhere, startling him with a sudden slap on the back. They’re about the same height, but he reels forward from the surprise. It’s weird to be touched so casually by anyone.

“Ah! Oh, hey, hey, Hunter,” he sort of stammers, righting himself. _Be cool, man._

“Hey dude. Good to see you,” Hunter says, flashing his white teeth at Mark. “Anyone get you a drink yet?” he asks, swilling from his own plastic cup and smacking his lips.

“Uh, no,” he answers. He doesn’t recognize anyone at the party. The girl he saw Hunter talking to a few days earlier is there, standing next to a bowl of pretzels with a bitchy look on her face, which relaxes when Hunter says something to make her laugh. He fixes a drink and she touches him lightly on the chin before he walks away, smiling. Mark watches this and tries to understand the precise nature of their relationship.

“Do you want to stash your backpack upstairs?” Hunter says when he’s back in earshot, handing Mark a cup. Mark looks around, twists his neck to see where other people have left their things. There are a few purses and coats lying around on sofas.

"Okay," he says, thinking that maybe they'll talk about _stuff._ Erica always wanted to talk about stuff, when they were hooking up, so this is probably like that. He probably won't mention the things he was researching on the internet.

Mark takes a sip of his drink, which tastes like room-temperature orange juice. He looks around the room, trying to think of something to say, as Hunter places a hand on his elbow and digs in, firm, with two fingers. Mark thinks he understands what's going on.

Hunter holds his elbow until they reach the staircase, where he drops it and says, "You first." Mark takes the steps two at a time, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket when they're on the landing. 

The room looks messier this time, like maybe the cleaning lady doesn’t come on the weekends. There are empty beer cans lying around and the bed hasn’t been made. Mark edges his way in the door behind Hunter and sort of just stands there, holding his backpack by one strap.

“Should I --?" he starts, chewing on his lip. Hunter gives him a strange look and says, “Just wherever is fine. Sorry the place is a mess.”

Mark lets the bag slip through his fingers. He takes another drink of his gin and juice while staring down to the right. Hunter kind of coughs and sits down on his desk, scooting a stack of papers out of the way first. He taps out with his toe, indicating the chair opposite. Mark gives a curt nod before walking over and sitting down.

“So--” says Hunter, kind of casually rubbing his foot along Mark’s shin, like that’s no big deal, and just something people do every day.

“Yeah,” he blurts out. “You weren’t in class last week,” and even as the words come out, he thinks they sound totally uncool, girly. Like he’s a stalker or something.

Hunter laughs with those white teeth flashing over the edge of his cup. He laughs and says, “Yeah, no. I figured I was failing anyways, cause I didn’t do the essay or the presentation. So I switched my grade to an audit.” He’s still using the tip of his shoe to touch Mark’s shin, and he wants to ask what they’re doing, if they’re hooking up, or not hooking up.

“Oh,” he answers back, wrinkling up his lips and nodding. “That makes sense.”

“I miss anything?”

“No. I mean, a really shitty Power Point. Some naked pictures.”

Hunter cocks an eyebrow at the floor, takes another drink.

“You have fun the other night?” he says, changing direction.

“What night?” A pause before Mark catches on. “Oh, when I was here?”

“Mhmm.” Hunter’s finishing his drink, his adam’s apple bobbing as he tips his head back. Mark mimics him and does the same thing, gulping the rest of his cocktail. An ice cube lands on his lip and he winces. When he looks around for a place to set the cup, Hunter is staring at him with that same intent expression, and then he’s standing up, hovering over Mark. He takes the cup away and puts it on the desk, and then he’s placing a hand on top of his head and carding it through his hair. Mark sort of looks up at him, and tilts his head to the side inquisitively. Hunter strokes down the side of his cheek with the back of his fingers. It feels tickly, and he closes his eyes in a rush.

Hunter starts touching his mouth again, which feels super good. With his eyes closed it’s just the warm feathery whorls of his fingertips, the ragged edges of his nails drawing up sparks. Mark lets his head sink forward as Hunter works his index finger into Mark’s mouth, running it along his top teeth and then giving it to Mark to suck. It feels pretty sexy, actually, probably because Hunter makes a groaning noise and then _pulls_ on his bottom lip, tweaking it between his fingers.

Mark’s own legs part a fraction and he sighs around Hunter’s fingers, remembering the images from all the grainy porn and ancient vases. They should probably be talking about what went down last week, but talking seems suddenly very boring because Hunter is coming to stand opposite Mark, bending down to lift his hands and place them on his belt. He backs away, takes his own hands away. Mark implicitly understands that this is his chance to refuse, to say no without being a fucking cocktease. Hunter goes back to restlessly carding his hands through Mark’s hair, and the movement shifts his crotch forward up against Mark’s face.

They sort of sit like this for a second, Mark inhaling open-mouthed the smell of fabric softener from Hunter’s crotch. He nuzzles his face up against it, like an animal staking out its territory, and then scrapes his teeth across the outline of Hunter’s erection, by now clearly tenting the front of his thin khakis. _“Fucking hell,”_ says Hunter from somewhere above him, and Mark feels both powerful and powerless. Unsure of how he’s supposed to be reacting in this situation, the right way to act. Hunter breathes out as Mark presses open-mouthed kisses to the line of his trapped cock, and he decides that he can figure out later, how he was meant to react.

Mark pulls off, noting the wet spots left by his mouth along Hunter’s crotch. His tongue darts out in concentration as he unbuckles Hunter’s belt, then slowly undoes his pants and pulls down the zipper. Mark sneaks a glance upward. Hunter is staring right at him with an audacity that makes his cheeks burn hot. He’s the girl in this situation. Maybe so. Bet he can still do better than Erica.

His phone buzzes again in his pocket, keeps buzzing as Hunter reaches into the slit of his boxers and pulls his dick out. He’s touching it like before, casually, but right in Mark’s face this time, up in his field of vision. It’s pink, not nearly the size of some of the porn cocks, and that’s a good thing. Mark is okay with blowing Hunter for whatever reason, but he’s absolutely not ready for some of that stuff. What do they call it, deep-throating?

“You could probably use some more practice, really,” Hunter says, as if on cue. Mark gapes up at him for a second, but only a second. Hunter tightens his fingers in Mark’s hair and says, “I mean, that was really great. But I’m sure you can do better. You like a challenge, right?”

Mark doesn’t answer him, because Hunter is trying to sound authoritative but he just comes across like an asshole. _I’ll show you,_ he thinks, reaching forward and grabbing Hunter’s hips. The other man stumbles and then rights himself, muttering “shit” under his breath. Because Mark is nothing if not thorough, and so he has taught himself a few things, facts and advice gleaned from the internet, experimenting on his own hand.

Mark places his thumbs under the base of Hunter’s cock, resting his own elbows on the arms of the desk chair. He leans forward and swipes his tongue across the head. _Very sensitive_ , said Wikipedia, which turns out to be true. Hunter straight up whines, so Mark does it again, and then positions himself underneath, wriggling his tongue under the ridge. _Fellation_ said the entry, _active excitement with the tongue and mouth._

Mark does just that, trying out everything he watched and learned. He makes a mental list, noting which kinds of kisses make Hunter’s hips press forward, seeking more. The whimper he hears when he pops the head between his lips, the veritable grunt when he sucks gently on the tip.

Mark files all this information away in a mental file directory, a set of sequences and functional requirements of what works and what doesn’t. Mark is pretty fucking pleased with himself, because nearly everything he tries works out. He’s more active this time around, as opposed to the last time. _Irrumation, to force someone to perform fellatio_. This one is more interesting, maybe, but the other time was somehow more fun.

“Fuck, man, did you get a boyfriend or something? Jesus _fucking_ Christ,” Hunter grunts, tossing his head back and gripping Mark’s shoulder. “Oh, shit,” he says, as Mark holds the base of his cock and starts to bear down on it, making his mouth wet and tight like he did around his fingers. Hunter is trying to thrust, but Mark holds him back with one hand, because he doesn’t want to switch from one activity to another. That leads to mixed results.

"You wanna get off this time,” Hunter says, looking down at him, “be my guest.” Mark doesn’t hesitate, just shoves a hand down the front of his jeans. Once again, he’s not wearing any underwear. No underwear, and he’s fucking hard right away. He tugs on the head of his cock and then goes back to nuzzling the head of Hunter’s.

It’s leaking precome, which he lets coat his lips before licking them off. It feels absolutely filthy, it must look downright indecent. He sort of doesn’t care.

“Fu-- _uck_ ,” Hunter says, his cock sliding smooth and swollen over Mark’s tongue. He's much more on edge this time. Maybe he didn't expect Mark to catch on so quickly. “You like that?” he asks, which is sort of hilarious, because they say that kind of crap all the time in porn, but it also makes Mark’s own cock twitch as he pulls himself off. “Yeah,” he breathes out, hot around the head, half-grinning as he talks.

“I’m gonna come soon, man,” he mumbles as Mark slides his mouth easily up and down his length. “Yeah,” he repeats, before forging down and swirling his tongue around.

Hunter keens and he starts to shake, and Mark waits for the first jet of come to hit the roof of his mouth before he lets himself tip over as well. This time he’s prepared for it. This time he swallows.

He has six new texts when he checks his phone. Every single one of them is from Eduardo. 

*   
He walks back to Kirkland slowly, cold come drying in his pants. He’ll have to wash them, he thinks, but he can hold off. It’ll be the winter break soon. He can do it when he’s back home for ten days, or, better still, leave his overstuffed duffel bags in the laundry room until his mom throws up her hands in frustration and does it all for him. She'll bitch about it, but she'll still do it, in the end.

Wardo is there when he gets back, sitting cross-legged, nose buried in a stack of flashcards, a mostly empty bottle of white liquor sitting next to him on the hallway table. Hunter’s note has been written over in a scrawl _Where the hell are you? I brought cachaça._

The note is from Eduardo, but Eduardo is still here.

“You’re still here,” he says, flatly.

“Huh?” Wardo says, looking up blearily from the pile of pre-printed flashcards (covered in Ec equations, bought at the Co-op, easier than making your own). His eyes look tired and he runs a hand through his weird hair.

“You’re still here.” He repeats himself, thinking maybe Wardo didn’t hear the first time. Mark unlocks the door and Eduardo follows him into the suite, picking up the bottle of alcohol along the way.

"I was studying for the final."

"It's not until after break," Mark says, as they walk to his part of the room and flop down on the bed.

Wardo starts talking about something, his father or a trip back to São Paulo where he won't have time to do any school stuff, too much family and tons of cousins, an event, like a wedding or a bris in Miami. His crotch itches. He decides that he doesn’t like jerking off into his pants, thinks that he won’t do that next time. If there’s a next time.

Before he walked back Hunter had gotten his cell number and said, "Yeah, I’ll text you, next time we’re going to the gym. You can shoot hoops, right?”and Mark had just shrugged like, _yeah_ , because he can play a little ball, but he can’t dunk for shit.

He had nearly walked into a tall guy with brown hair as he was leaving Hunter’s room in a rush. They exchanged hasty _sorrys_ and Hunter had shouted from behind him, in the room still, "Char- _lie_! You just get back? How was Providence?"

Charlie’s eyes had darted over Mark’s face, the slight tilt of his head -- the other man's mind sequencing possibilities, trying to place him.

“Uh, hey...” he had said. "Sorry, do I know you?”

“That’s Mark,” Hunter had said, coming up behind him and clasping his friend’s hand in a gesture of easy affection. “He’s in my Art History class. He was just leaving,” he said, putting his hand lightly on Mark’s shoulder. Mark winced and had to look down at the ground.

“Oh, hey. Nice to meet you. I’m Charlie, Hunter’s roommate.” Charlie had said, offering up a stupid crooked smile and giving Mark his hand to shake. And then over Mark’s shoulder, to Hunter, not to him, “Dude, Lauren wants you to come back downstairs. She said something about needing a study aid.” Hunter drops his hand from Mark’s shoulder and says, “Right on, dude. Let me just grab my room key.” He turns to get his key from the desk. Mark sneaks another peek at Charlie, who is excessively tall, gangly like a giraffe. He wonders if he plays lacrosse as well.

“Do you play lacrosse as well?” he asks.

Charlie gives him a funny look and says, “No, basketball. Not like, first-string or anything, just intramural. I’m too freakishly tall for lacrosse. And I don’t really have time for varsity stuff any more,” he says, in a rush.

Hunter comes back over and laughs, nudging Mark out the door with his hip.”Yeah, dude, ask him why he doesn’t have _time_ for the team. Oh, here, don’t forget your backpack,” he says, holding it up by one strap like it’s infected. Mark takes the bag and slings it over his shoulder.

Maybe he got a girlfriend, Mark thinks. If he could get a girlfriend he wouldn’t play stupid sports anymore either. But no, Charlie is probably popular. He has a nice smile. _He_ , no doubt, already has a girlfriend.

“Uh, why don’t you have time for the --” he stammers out, but Charlie interrupts him--

“--man, fuck you, you don’t need to give me grief for--”

“--aw, is the little faggot embarrassed about joining _drama club_?”--Hunter cackles.

“You’re an asshole, Andrews,” Charlie says, glaring down. He is really tall. Winklevii tall. Hunter is laughing. He has a mean laugh. His teeth flash so white, like a shark.

“And you’re a fucking queer, which is way worse,” Hunter spits out.

They all walk down the stairs. Mark does not understand what just happened. Nor does he understand when the two guys exchange a glance and then Hunter gets his cell number, the offer to shoot hoops. Then they walk back over to the pretty brunette and her friends. The three of them laugh as Mark walks out the door.

*  
"Mark...Mark?" Wardo is saying, waving a flashcard in front of his face.

He looks up, startled.

Mark reads the side of the card that Eduardo is holding up before his eyes. It says:   
__

_  
The Slutsky Equation for Duality: The breakdown of a price change on quantity demanded (Marshallian demand) into its two basic components--a substitution effect (the movement along Hicksian demand ) and an income effect (the shift in the Marshallian demand due to the resulting change in purchasing power).   
_

"What?" he says, jerking back to the present. "What?"

"Read out the answers to me, and I'll give you the equations," Eduardo says, getting up from the bed. "That way I can fix us a drink while I study. Do you have any sugar packets? I can make us a Caipirinha if you do."

Mark flips the notecard over in his hand, looks at the symbols printed there.

 _  
dxj/dpi=(dhj/dpi)-(dxj/dy)xi   
_

"Caipirinhas," he says, under his breath, "are for faggots."

Wardo doesn't hear him. 

*

Mark gets so much thefacebook shit done, that week, the last full week before break. He’s on some kind of dopamine high, and he hardly needs to sleep at fucking all. It’s bullshit to pretend about classes, at this point. He can try to study over break, so if he bothers even going he takes his laptop with him, keeps his head ducked down from the back rows. Writing all the time, he’s just _up_. 

This week when he feels himself flagging -- 2 p.m., 5 a.m -- when it’s not too late or too early, he sends texts, gets texts in return.

 _You around?_

 _Yeah_

He traipses back to Lowell and he works on his technique. They don’t even pretend like they’re studying, despite what Hunter said the one time Charlie walked in on them, jumping back in surprise. “Dude, why don’t you _knock?_ ”and Charlie was looking at both of them, as Mark tried to surreptitiously wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. He was getting the hang of deep-throating. It wasn’t that hard, since Hunter really didn’t have a very big dick. ”Sorry,” said Charlie, ”I can come back, until you’re done, uh, _studying.”_

There were no books or papers on the table. Mark didn’t even have his backpack with him. They were very clearly not studying. So he does that, over there. When the hour’s weird or he’s been too long without a shower he goes and jerks off in the bathroom instead. In his mind he’s always between Hunter’s casually parted legs. In his mind he’s always on his knees.

He whacks off and wonders if Charlie has a bigger penis than Hunter. He’s a lot taller and he has big feet, so he probably does. Mark flicks his thumbnail against the head of his cock, as he comes, relishing the sting.

*

It’s _fucking amazing._ He feels fucking _amazing._ He’s never tired. Code and sex, sex and code. He forgets to eat. There are spots behind his eyes. His fingers always tingle.

*

Wardo stops by and makes concerned faces at him. He brings him sandwiches he doesn't eat, soup he doesn't touch. _Candy_ he says, _bring me candy._ Wardo _tsks_ at him, like a parent. He brings him Red Vines, though, if he stares at him long enough. If he says "please." Wardo is a sucker for nice manners.

*

On Thursday evening he gets a text about basketball. He doesn’t bother to change, although he does remember to snag a pair of actual sneakers from beside the door. Hunter’s wearing a hoodie that says Navy on it when he meets him outside the gym. They swipe their cards, check out a ball and find a spare hoop. Mark has to concentrate intensely on the game, which isn’t really a game, it’s too casual for that, but he makes several baskets, including one from the half-court line. Hunter claps him on the back when he does that, shakes him a little bit.

“Nice one, Zuckerberg,” he says, loudly. “Especially good since you’re so effin' short.”

Mark doesn’t say anything in response to that.

They bump into Charlie in the foyer as they're returning sweat-soaked face towels and getting their IDs back from the cage where they checked the ball out. They always seem to be bumping into Charlie. He smiles big at both of them and says, "Hey, what's up?"

"Just shooting hoops," Hunter says, casually. Charlie isn't in gym clothes, he's dressed nicely in a blue button-down. Where's he going, dressed like that, at ten o'clock on a Thursday?

"You going to the --" darting a sidelong look at Mark, "the thing?" he says, trying to be casual. _Don't tell the geek, don't tell the Jew._

"Totally," says Hunter, spinning the basketball lazily on the countertop. The black girl who's working there brings them back their IDs and takes the ball from him. _Club stuff, club stuff._

"I gotta change first. See you later," Hunter says, as Charlie walks out and waves goodbye. 

He leaves them alone to walk across the Charles River bridge in silence. It’s cold out, but neither of them is wearing a coat. He can feel the sweat in his hair starting to ice up, but he’s still hot underneath his sweats. They don’t talk. Mark’s bones ache, and for the first time in a week he feels wiped. He’s been on a tear, he realizes, and now he’s played physical sports and he’s going to go down, hard, as soon as he gets back to the room. He feels like his knees might buckle at any moment, like he could collapse right there, a hundred meters from Weld boathouse.

 _Adrenaline,_ he thinks, _adrenaline and dopamine._

“You gonna go back to your, em, room first?” he blurts out, foolishly, to Hunter’s back. He’s walking more quickly than Mark, shoulders straight. He turns around with a confused face and says, “Yeah, I am, but I have somewhere to be.” He drops his eyes and says, “Sorry.” He actually does sound sorry.

They walk over to the opposite bank. There’s water lapping against the boat docks. There’s probably no one down there, Mark thinks, and then he thinks, _adrenaline and dopamine_ and then he says, “It’s dark over there,” nodding in the direction of Weld, where the water is lapping.

Hunter spins around and gives him an incredulous look that quickly blossoms into a leer when Mark licks his lips. He has deduced, over the past sixteen days, that Hunter responds to that movement. He does it again, more slowly, pressing his tongue against his top teeth and inhaling sharply. Something changes in Hunter’s eyes when Mark does that.

“Is it,” he says, the firm set of his jaw visible under the blue lights, installed for safety, a necessary precaution against townies and serial killers. It ruins the ambiance of the old campus.

“Totally,” Mark answers, walking with him purposefully down towards the shoreline. The ground is crunchy frozen under their feet. He’s glad he wore sneakers. They sneak around to the side of the boathouse building, where they’re concealed from view, in the dark. Mark’s single mindedness surprises even himself, when he pushes Hunter up against the wall and shoves his hand down the front of his pants. He leans in and rests his head by Hunter’s neck for a second, inhaling the aroma of cooling sweat mixed with deodorant through his nose.

Ribbons of steamy breath play against Hunter’s neck and he’s surprisingly pliant under Mark’s mouth. They don’t kiss one another, but the rancid smell of perspiration stirs up a dizzy feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t tease for even a second, starts sucking Hunter hard right the fuck away. The pressure behind his eyes, the dull burn in his jaw, the incidental rightness of kneeling alongside the boat dock. It all feels incredible. He lets his mouth go slack and relaxes his throat. Hunter is being, weirdly, polite, and quiet. His hands are pressed against the painted brick and he’s holding his hips still.

Mark doesn’t like this one bit. He needs more to keep him going through the night, and so lifts his hands to Hunter’s and guides them to his head. Hunter’s fingers tighten and his hips stutter for one second. Mark tips his head back, lets his eyes slide closed. He doesn’t even know if Hunter can see him, but it only takes a second before he’s cupping the back of Mark’s head and fucking his mouth. _Hard._ Mark has to try to keep up, and when Hunter comes he sees sparks of his own -- even better than an orgasm.

He presses the heel of his hand against his crotch but he doesn’t touch himself. He wants to keep the build for later, the chemical chain reaction _adrenaline seratonin dopamine_ going as long as he can. Ride that wave -- more lines of code, more infrastructure-- until night shines gray through the windows and all the Mountain Dew is gone.

*  
They part ways in front of Kirkland. Hunter waves him goodbye, says he’ll maybe get in touch after the holidays. Mark bites his lip, hoping there’s an invitation looming in his future. That would still be awesome. He would let it slip to Eduardo over breakfast, _not just a diversity thing,_ and he would relish it, the look of jealousy on his best friend’s face.

Eduardo is in the room drinking beer with Chris and Dustin when he gets back, his hard-on subsiding into softness. He can’t wait to write, all fucking night long, so he’s kind of disappointed to see them all there, yelling at the Discovery Channel from the couch. He trips back to his desk without saying hello. Eduardo comes and hovers over him, peering at his rumpled appearance, looking over his shoulder at the desktop screen. 

_Not like you know what it even means._

“Where were you?” he asks. He’s such a nag.

“Who are you, my mother?” he snarks back. There’s a beat. He realizes that was a mean thing to say.

“At the gym,” he says, trying to make amends.

“Did you fall down or something?” Eduardo asks, his eyes skimming over Mark.

“Huh?” he says, tearing his eyes away from the screen to follow Wardo’s gaze. His knees are covered with the indentations of dry leaves and dirt. He feels himself blush. 


	2. Motion

Break finds him at home in Dobbs Ferry. His mother does, as anticipated, do his laundry. She even folds it for him. She also brings him pudding cups and reminds him to sleep. His sisters are there, shouting, so he wears his headphones most of the time.

*  
He codes a lot, masturbates a little, sleeps in between. They go to dinner with the Sterns on Christmas day, and then he and Eben go watch _Return of the King_ at the Clearview Cinema.

Eben has decided he wants to change his major to film, and he fucking talks Mark’s ear off after the movie, going on about camera angles and ensemble casting. He lets Mark eat all the Junior Mints, during the movie.

*   
Mark is bored, and the writing is wearing him out. He keeps meaning to study. He doesn’t study.

*   
He’s tired, bone fucking tired. He looks on the internet.

*  
Eben comes over and they watch the first two extended versions of _LOTR._ His mom makes a pot roast. He spends three days barefoot and doesn’t set foot outside.

*   
He writes down bus times to Penn Station. Neighborhoods. Streets and the names of bars.

*   
The code is so stilted. He keeps mistyping, making mistakes. He sleeps for fourteen hours straight and misses the arrival of 2004.

*  
Wardo sends him a text once he’s home in Miami. It says:  _Happy New Year_. Mark eats an entire box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and gets back in bed.

*   
He tells his mother that Eben has tickets to a Rangers exhibition game and that they’re going into the city. She does more laundry. His father goes back to the office.

*   
He packs his backpack and buys a bus ticket into Midtown. He brings his laptop with him. He really needs to get his groove back. His mother kisses him on the cheek when he leaves and tries to press a plastic baggie of organic trail mix in his hand. He leaves it on the hallway table, next to the blue and white Chinese vases and the mail. He doesn’t want trail mix.

*   
Mark walks around when he arrives. He did some work on the bus, but it was slow going. The code plodded and he lost focus every time they went over a pothole. There’s dirty snow packed on the sides of the streets. Cabs slow down, scoping him out. It’s not so far. He walks.

*   
There are a _ton_ of places. He walks up and down the streets for a long time, reading the list of addresses from the carefully folded sheet of notebook paper, fingered repeatedly on the ride down. He stashes it in the pocket of his hoodie. His sweatshirt smells very very clean. His mother may have even ironed it.

*   
He goes into a coffee shop and orders an omelet. He drinks two Pepsis with no ice in them and works until the sun sets.

*  
All the _Time Out_ reviews in the world, all the hundreds of postings on message boards he’s read -- none of these prepare him for the experience of walking in for the first time. “Cavernous” -- “back bar is more of a bear hangout” --”pretty chill most nights except Thursdays, when the leather scene is still in full swing” -- “No Asians or black guys” -- “No back room -- “The bar only serves two kinds of beer (light and dark) and radishes.” -- “Rooftop deck” -- “Lax door policy” -- “If you’re cute you won’t get carded.”

Mark is fairly sure that he is not big enough for most girls. He’s scrawny, all legs and overdeveloped brain. But he thinks maybe they (as in: guys<>girls),  they might. And, in fact, they do. When he smiles at the door guy, who’s dark skinned like he might be Italian or something, and flashes his Maryland-issued driver's license, which lists his name as Matt Brandenberg and his hometown as Baltimore, he gets raised eyebrows and a once-over. But he gets in. They let him in. This is something. _This is new._

New too are the _looks_ he gets when he steps into the front bar. He still has his backpack slung over his shoulder as heads swivel around to look at him. It always seems like a scene in an old Western movie, every time he walks through a door. Eyes normally linger on him with a casual disdain. Tonight it feels different. How, he’s not quite sure. But he knows it’s better.

He’s watched by no less than three people when he walks over to the bar. A bearded guy in leather pants, someone old, and a stubbly one wearing a Red Sox cap. He leans on the bar and orders a beer (the light one, both of them are Belgian) and then looks sideways at Red Sox guy, who is eating radishes and licking kosher salt from his fingers. He makes eye contact with Mark _one -- two -- three seconds_ and then unfurls himself from his barstool, drinking down the rest of his pint as he stands up.

“Make it two, Kev, and you can put it on my tab,” he says, flagging down the bartender. He slides up next to Mark and draws a circle on the bar with his finger. He’s wearing flannel. It’s mostly blue, and his eyes are blue too. He can’t tell what color his hat is, but since it’s Red Sox, he figures red, which he can’t see.

“Do you like the Red Sox?” he asks, because that seems like the right kind of thing to say.

“Yeah,” he says, taking the beers from the bartender, “although it gets me into trouble around here. Mostly I just like the hat.”

“Right,” Mark answers, drinking some of his beer. “I live in Boston. I go to Harvard. I’m Matt.”

“Nice to meet you, Matt,” he says as they shake hands, “Ben.”

They go back to drinking. There is idle chitchat through two more beers and another plate of radishes. Mark has no damn idea why these are considered acceptable bar food. Nachos are bar food, wings or cheese sticks. Not radishes. They don’t even soak up any booze, and they make his tongue burn.

Mark is staring at the reflection of the two of them in the mirror. He tries to figure out what Hunter sees in him, what Ben sees in him. He twists his mouth up and looks himself in the eye.

A lot of things pass through his head, simmering under the surface. He lets them go. He doesn’t want to think about them.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he blurts out, to his hands. And he does, all that beer. He needs to pee.

“Okay,” Ben says, leaning back from his stool to let Mark pass him by.

Mark weaves his way past tables of men. He gets looked at a lot and he has to keep his eyes trained on the floor. He nearly runs into red-bearded guy with a nose covered in freckles as he pushes the bathroom door open. There are people clustered in there, talking in low voices. It’s very dim. He goes to find a stall, because peeing in front of strangers is high on the list of weird stuff to do. He pees and then sits down on the seat, but he doesn’t lock the door. 

He is having thoughts, like, all of the fucking thoughts, like --  _maybe this was a bad idea _ and _when is the next bus back to Cambridge_ and _I miss my friends_ \-- and he can hear noises coming from outside the bathroom stall. Sex noises, kissing noises, porn noises. How did he not notice that on the way in? He should have known; it’s not like he hadn’t read about it.

There’s a soft rap on the stall door and he can see the toes of Ben’s gray New Balance. He’s reaching forward to turn the handle when it opens and then swings inward. There’s some tight shuffling and twisting, and then there are two bodies in there. He stands up, even though he’s not steady on his feet.

Ben kisses him. It’s a first, being really  kissed by another man, this other mouth on his. Lips that are hot and kisses with tongue. He's been kissed by girls, and Dustin kissed him once, on a dare, but that wasn't sexy and everyone laughed. Well, Chris and Billy laughed. Wardo just stared at him as Dustin cackled and toppled over onto the floor, shitfaced.

That was very different from being kissed by Ben. It's making his heart palpitate and he's not sure he likes it, not sure he likes being in this room surrounded by other people kissing, even if there is at least a thin partition separating them.

He can hear it, hear everything. It’s like all the sounds are being piped in straight to his temporal lobes. Like before there was static, before there was flicking too fast through a stream of radio stations and now he can hear it all, feel it all. Ben’s mouth is soft and he tastes like radishes, like the beer they’ve been drinking. He works his thigh between Mark’s legs, his jeans rubbing against Mark's own, his hips grinding forward. Mark is suddenly really aware of his body, of being touched.

He has his hands on Mark’s lower back and sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth and is doing something like  chewing on it and then he kind of moans and says--

“Why are you back here in the stall?” he says, nuzzling in to Mark’s neck and scraping his teeth down towards his shoulder. “Are you shy or something?” he says, backing away a few inches and starting to pull Mark’s fly open --

His eyes go wide open and that and he’s rudely swatting Ben’s hand away before he’s even aware of it.

“Don’t,” he chokes out,  “ _don’t_ ,” and Ben draws away confused. “You don’t want --” he starts, and Mark’s brain just  _cannot possibly begin to comprehend _ the second part of that question, so he just shakes his head and says, “No, no,  _no_.”

Ben backs off and says, “Shit, sorry, sorry. I thought you, shit. Ooops,” and more in this vein until Mark has to look off to the side and mumble out, “It’s fine. I just. Don’t _do_ that, okay?”

“Okay,” Ben says. And he looks concerned -- he’s looking at Mark with  _concern_ , and there is that condescending face, the one his mom pulls, the one Wardo pulls, and he hates it because he sees pity there -- and he huffs out, “Wait--” to Ben’s back. He turns, trapped between Mark and the door and says, “Yeah?” Mark sets his jaw and thinks, angrily,  _don’t fucking feel sorry for me. I’m going to be somebody._ but what comes out of his mouth is “Come back.”

Ben gives him a sideways look, and his eyes crinkle up when he smiles, as Mark waddles his way closer to him. His smile is sexy, not like movie-star sexy, but dirty and warm. Mark relaxes a little when Ben flashes him that smile and then says, "You prefer to give rather than take, huh?"

Mark licks his lips and nods against Ben's neck, struck by a sudden need to mouth at it, to rub his lips over the stubble of his jawline. He does this for a long time, almost like a cat, until his mouth feels puffy and swollen, and then he chews on his own bottom lip. He does this as Ben cups his ass and presses their crotches together. Eyes slammed shut, feeling Ben's dick hard alongside his own, he bites down until he can taste blood. 

Ben is average in terms of tallness, he's easy to reach. His hips are smooth when Mark slips his fingers under the waistband of his jeans. They aren’t kissing, just breathing in too close to one another’s mouths, and he can hear noises from the other side -- other people breathing, grunting.

“You don’t have to--” Ben is saying as Mark’s hands are on his fly, putting his hand down there “--you really don’t have to--” but he can’t  really mean that. If his hard-on... _hello_ , more impressive than Hunter's already...if  that is anything to go by, he  can't mean _that._

He didn’t really like the kissing, actually, it made his stomach flop in ugly ways. He settles instead for biting a bruise into Ben’s neck while he touches him. The room is very hot. There’s no ventilation. It smells like piss and sweat.

“Fuck, Matt,” Ben says, as Mark starts jacking him off with his hand. It takes him a second to remember who Matt is.  ”Fuck,” he breathes out, as Mark pulls down his pants and -- because it’s too cramped to kneel-- sits himself on down the toilet seat. He pulls Ben forward as he closes his eyes. It’s really pretty dark in there, but he knows he’s being looked at. That thought excites him. He doesn't want to be out in the open where everyone can see, though.  That seems really fucking perverted.

“Fuck,” Ben says, a third time. He’s very repetitive. Mark blinks a couple of times and then starts pressing open-mouthed kisses along the shaft of his penis. Ben says it again, "Fuck." He says it again, along with Mark’s not-real name when he pops the head into his mouth, slips it back out again, getting it wet. His lips sting and he keeps pulling back to lick at them, to soothe away the burn.

Ben clutches at Mark’s shoulder. There’s a thud on the other side of the stall and a grunt of pleasure. The whole scenario is so utterly ridiculous --  _Dude, I go to Harvard_ \-- that Mark has to smile. He smiles around Ben’s cock as he forges down on it. Ben makes a strangled noise which turns into a whine when Mark slips away, lets the head press out hard into his cheek. He does this for a while, then the popping thing with his lips, and then the deep-throating thing.

It appears to be a very effective combination. Ben starts shaking, genuinely, shaking, and saying  _fuck fuck fuck_ and Mark's throat burns. He can't get enough air through his nose and he has to clench at Ben's hips to keep steady. His whole body goes tense when Ben comes, the orgasm he draws out reverberating through his own body. His mouth is wracked, his throat is burning. His mind goes wide and clear. 

He has to sit for a second. Catch his breath, forehead still pressed into Ben’s stomach. There’s some silence. He has to pee again.

“I have to pee again,” he says, pulling free and rubbing his jaw. It’s really sore.

“Okay,” Ben nods, and leaves the stall unobtrusively.

Mark hears water running, murmurs and throaty laughs exchanged from beyond the other side of the stall. He licks his bottom lip and tastes blood.

*   
When he gets back to the bar the need to leave is acute, to wend his way back to the coffee shop from before and set up camp until sunrise. The first bus doesn’t leave until eight tomorrow morning, which is fine. He wasn’t sure how long all of it would take.

Ben is sitting sideways with Mark’s backpack on his lap, laughing with the bartender.

“I have to go,” he tells him.

“School starting tomorrow or something?” Ben asks.

“No, not yet,” he answers, truthfully. Why truthfully? He finds it so easy to lie. “I’m staying with my parents upstate during the winter break.”

His palms are itchy and every synapse is telling him to  _get the fuck out, go write go write._ But then Ben is standing up, tall and towering and friendly.

“Did you eat anything before? Because I could tear up some takeout right now,” he says, angling his eyebrows up. Mark tries to see what’s really being said, but he can’t really focus on that right now, either, he needs to be somewhere else, now, now, now.

“Matt?” Ben is saying, holding out his backpack. “Takeout? I’m just off 9th, other side of the park.”

Mark is nodding, his head saying _sure_ , his insides saying _run._

Ben tosses some bills on the counter and says goodbye to some people. They walk out into the night and cut through the park. Mark isn’t silent, he’s finding that he’s suddenly overwhelmed with this need to talk. Out loud, to Ben’s ear, telling his ear about perl scripts and C++ modifications and even though there is a clear loud part of his brain shouting,  _Dude, shut up, he doesn’t fucking care. Why do you always keep talking?_

Mark just keeps talking about thefacebook, these ideas he's got, emacs scripts he wants to run when he gets home. Ben kind of nods and says, “Mmm” and stops off to buy cigarettes at a bodega on 26th. Marl shuffles uncomfortably on the pavement, his computer burning a hole through his backpack.

They end up in a tiny studio fourth floor walk-up. There’s no doorman. Mark is winded by the time they arrive, all those steps. Ben is rummaging through a stack of take-out menus next to the fridge and enumerating possibilities, “This place does awesome barbecue, although it always takes forever. Thai? Chinese? I could go for that.”

Mark is hardly listening. Lines are flicking behind his vision, fleeting and blipping.

 _*  
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*

It’s on. There it is.

*

 _Go write._

*  
He needs to not be rude, though, so he wrenches his eyes away from the language only he can see, puckers up his mouth and says, “seriously, whatever. Chinese is fine.”

Ben is already pulling out his cell phone and dialing, gently exchanging pleasantries with the person on the other end. He seems pretty nice, he's probably not a serial killer or a psychopath. Mark doesn't think he'll end up in bits in Ben's freezer. His mother would be appalled, though. if Mark’s last known activity was to blow a stranger at a gay bar in Chelsea. The memory, and the malevolence make his rise up on his tiptoes.

“What do you want?” Ben is asking, covering the phone with his hand.

“Will you eat lo mein,” Mark asks to the countertop. He doesn’t even need to close his eyes to see it rushing past, just beyond his reach.

 _*  
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*

“I don’t do carbs after seven, but I’ll get you one. Veggie?” he says, like he knows already.

“Cool.”

Ben says some more stuff and puts down the phone, on the counter next to the fridge. He goes and pulls out beer bottles and says, “Matt. Matt. Heads up.” Then he whistles, like to a dog.

Mark turns just in time, remembers his name for tonight just in time, and catches the bottle as it whizzes through the air. He twists the top off and drinks from it. Ben is looking at him funny.

“What,” he says.

“Nothing,” Ben says. “You’re just really cute when you’re concentrating.”

“Cute?” he asks, furrowing his brow. How is he _cute_? Is he being patronizing?

He's coming closer and then he's setting Mark's beer down next to his own. Lifting him and scooping him up on to the breakfast counter, the slab that divides the tiny kitchen from the tiny front room. The whole apartment is the size of his room at Kirkland. Ben is not trying to kiss him on the mouth this time, but he is much more handsy. His hands are in Mark's hair and starting to rub at his groin.

"I mean, I have no fucking  idea what the hell you've been talking about for the last twenty minutes. But you sound smart, and that's totally giving me a hard-on," he smiles, against Mark's neck. He takes Mark's hand and guides it to his crotch, which, yeah, he does have a hard-on.

And now that they're here, a too-small room with a bed and some privacy, Mark suddenly realizes that he is very close to having gay sex.

"I've never had gay sex before," he says. Ben draws back and looks at him. He keeps holding Mark's hand on his crotch, grabs his beer with the other. He takes a sip and concentrates on Mark's face. The kitchen light picks up flecks of gray in his stubble. He must be old, like, almost thirty.

"You've never had gay sex," Ben says back, slowly. Mark shrugs.

"Back at the bar--" Ben starts, squinting up his eyes.

"What," he asks.

"That was gay sex, you know, Matt," Ben supplies. Trying to be helpful.

"No," Mark says, "No, it wasn't." 

Ben swills on the beer again, looking at Mark like he’s, like, a sea-monkey or something equally weird. Then he nudges the neck under Mark’s chin and says, “Here.” Mark takes a drink as Ben tips the bottle back against his teeth. He has to lift his hand to guide it, so as keep from splashing all down his front, and when he does that he touches Ben’s fingers with his own. He tries not to be clumsy, since his mother will notice the smell of beer on his sweatshirt and shoot him accusatory looks.

“So you’re a virgin?” Ben says. Mark can’t really hear him.

“Yeah,” he says, knowing he’s been asked a question, from the tone.

“Because you give head like you’ve got experience. Doesn’t Cambridge have gay bars? I know there used to be some good places in the South End,” Ben says, rubbing against the line of Mark’s erection. Something snaps into place. He hears that. Red Sox, _Boston_ Red Sox. Like he could go to gay bars there. He might see someone he knows, God fucking forbid. And he couldn’t go alone, he would look like a loser, then, bumping into upperclassmen and he'd be  all by himself.

He’d have to take Wardo along, then which would be, actually, maybe worse than being alone. Because Wardo would Yenta it up, want to matchmake -- all,  _what about him?_ and  _is that guy your type_? He cannot have Wardo trying to be his wingman. Hell, he’s no good at that with girls, really, so why would he be any help to Mark with men? And he would be so damn worried. Wardo worries how his mother worries.

 _Are you having anal intercourse, Mark?_ he would ask, with those stupid big eyes and that sound of concern, "intercourse" because Wardo wouldn’t say “fucking” -- he's too polite for such things, and he would check that there were condoms in his wallet before they left the house --

“Are you from Boston?” he says to Ben. “The hat, I mean,” he points.

Ben laughs and pulls the hat off and plops it onto Mark’s head. It’s too big for him, and his hair fluffs out the sides. Ben starts unbuttoning his flannel, pulling it off to reveal a heathered gray t-shirt underneath. He kisses under Mark’s ear, speaking low against his pulse point.

“Brookline,” he mutters. “Close enough.”

Mark grits his teeth.  _A fucking townie?_

“Where did you go to college?”

“UConn,” Ben says. “I got a basketball scholarship.” He takes off his t-shirt. His breath is hot on Mark’s neck.

“What was your major?”

“Urban and community studies,” Ben says, tugging off Mark’s hoodie.

“I’ve never been to a gay bar before,” Mark blurts out, with a sudden need to confess.

Ben looks at him with sympathy, at least, he thinks that’s what it is.

“How old are you, hon?” he asks, thumbing under Mark's jaw. His voice is quiet and concerned.

Mark juts his chin out, defiant. “Twenty-one,” he says in a rush, “twenty-one.”

Ben keeps looking at him and nods. “Right,” he says, pulling Mark’s legs up to wrap around him, shifting their groins together, “right.”

Mark lets his head fall back as Ben kisses his neck and then pulls him down from the counter. His legs are still wrapped around Ben’s waist -- he’s strong, with amazing arms, so he probably puts in a lot of time at the gym -- and he lifts him easily across the room and onto the twin bed.

\---   
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\---

He knows that they both end up naked, that there is some more kissing and then fingers up his ass and then a mouth on his butthole, whatever the fuck  that is. He’s seen so much gay porn and he still cannot comprehend how  that could feel good in the slightest.  _Rimming_ he read on the internet:  _Anilingus involves a variety of techniques to stimulate the anus including kissing, licking, and sliding the tongue up and down the insides of the asscheeks and asscrack, and in and out of the anus itself._

It's nicer than it sounds, nicer than he imagined. Ben takes his time. He's really gentle.

 _It's an exit, not an entrance,_ the sex ed teacher told his eighth grade class.

It does feel good, whatever Ben does down there, with lube and spit and condoms. He thinks while it’s all happening that he should be on his hands and knees, but he doesn’t even have a spare braincell to say so. He can't make human words.

\--   
_  
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Ben grunts and shouts _Matt_ and he’s there, with him, sort of. His body feels good, it must feel good, since when he comes to there’s white stuff on his stomach and he's totally covered in sweat. Ben pads over to the sink to get a glass of water, naked. His ass is ridiculous. He must do squats. Ben comes back over and smokes a cigarette while Mark stares at the ceiling. When the buzzer rings with their food Ben pulls on his jeans and goes over to the door barefoot. He's totally handsome, and nice, smiling as he hands Mark a foil lidded container and a plastic fork. He wishes he could say so.

He sniffs his lo mein. His head is spinning.

"I have to get going," he says, to the noodles.

"Huh?" Ben says, sitting cross-legged opposite him, shoveling in beef and broccoli. "What time's your bus? You can crash here, it's no problem," he adds, forking up some of Mark's noodles. He sets the container between them on the bed.

"It's early," he lies. "I gotta go. Thanks, though. For the food and everything."

Ben snorts and goes back to eating. He finishes his own food and starts on Mark's, watching him get dressed all the while.

"Bye," Mark says, as he walks out the door.

Ben just waves with his fork and shakes his head again. His mouth is still full.

*   
Mark practically sprints down the steps. He doesn't know where he is, exactly, so he flags a cab to take him back to Penn Station. He gets out his laptop as they're pulling away from the curb. There's not a lot of traffic, it only takes a few minutes. He tips more generously than he should, ten bucks for a six dollar fare, because he can't bother waiting for his change.

He finds a power outlet next to a metal-shuttered Starbucks and sits there with his headphones on until it's time for his bus back home. He misses the first one because he can't pull himself away from his seat on the floor.

*

He doesn't sleep again until Monday afternoon, when he finally notices that he is still wearing Ben's Red Sox hat.

*

There’s not much besides coding and some sleeping until Thursday night when he goes out with his family for a steak. His mother insists he wear a shirt that has buttons down the front and his father drinks too much scotch.

*

On Friday afternoon his mother drives him to the bus station with two duffel bags full of clean laundry in the back seat. The dorms officially open at 6 p.m. that night, and he wants a day alone before the guys get back. Most of the students will come in late Saturday, early Sunday morning. He wants to go earlier. He likes campus best when it’s quiet. Just him and the paths, the buildings and trees, sculptures covered in snow. Hundreds of years of history, as old as it gets in the New World. Sometimes he touches the brick of Mass Hall and thinks  _This was here when America was still a colony_ and it kind of blows his mind.

“Take care of yourself, sweetie,” his mom says, pulling him into a one-armed hug across the gearbox, which he leans into, stiffly. She kisses him on the cheek and gives him a ziploc bag full of snickerdoodles and an envelope containing two hundred dollars in twenties, “For cabs and pizza, or whatever. Make sure you eat something substantial when you get back to the dorms, okay?”

He gets out of the car, pulling his bags from the back seat, and he knows that he should say, “I love you” back, when she says it to him, but he somehow can’t make the words come out. He just nods, but he stands there watching until the car is gone.

*  
Campus is quiet. There's a storm moving across the Eastern seaboard, and snow is predicted for Sunday. He worked the whole bus ride, hours on the turnpike, and he kept working still in the shuttle bus back to campus. His eyes feel raw from doing coding in the dark. There were two other girls in the van with him, who had four suitcases apiece. They talked about Aspen and giggled and tipped the driver a ten each when he unloaded their bags. When it was his turn he could only find a single crumpled dollar in his front pocket, and he wasn’t sure if it would be worse to give him just that or nothing at all. He doesn’t want to part with any of the twenties, so he doesn’t tip, and the driver (who is black, possibly Jamaican) gives him a nasty look and says, “Happy holidays to you as well,  _brother_ ,” and Mark feels so shitty that he could kick the curb, but he doesn’t.

*   
He goes straight to his room and ditches his suitcases. Then he walks to the CVS, where there is no line, unusual for a Friday. Normally there's a mad run on Parliaments and mixers, rolling papers, gum. Sometimes Mark lurks around the upstairs part of the store where grad students are buying their sad single rolls of toilet paper. He uses the blood pressure machine by the pharmacy, just for the hell of it.

Tonight he picks out a two-liter of RC and a yellow Gatorade and then, remembering his mother’s admonition, gets a can of Spaghettios and two of tuna fish. Everything is horrendously overpriced, and as he is paying with one of the crisp new bills his mom gave him, he guiltily realizes he could have just asked the driver to make change.


	3. Ascension

Mark wakes up with a blanket around his shoulders that he doesn’t remember putting there, and when he lifts his head off the desk, he lifts it up off of a makeshift pillow made of crumpled suit jacket. It is three-thirty in the afternoon. He kicks Wardo in the shins to make him scoot over and share the real pillow. Sleet hits the window. His feet are cold, but he doesn’t bother to dig out any of his clean socks.

*   
He wakes up for two minutes and notices that it is dark outside. His feet are stuck between Wardo’s shins and his toes have gone to sleep.

*   
Later, Wardo takes him to the Foodland and lets him push the cart. The dining hall is still on limited hours, which they both managed to sleep through. They carry armfuls of plastic bags back to the room and spread out their haul. Wardo cuts up limes on the coffee table using a serrated steak knife and the cover of Calc textbook, because he has brought back Cuban rum, a New Year's gift from an associate of his father’s. He also has Valium, from his mother, because he’s a nervous flier. His father doesn’t know about the pills.

*   
“You’re supposed to savor it, Mark. Sip it,” Wardo says.

“We’re drinking out of paper cups,” Mark says, churlishly. "And there's bits of book cover in there now, too. It probably tastes like wood pulp," he frowns, into his glass.

“Don't be an asshole. It's good shit -- notes of bay leaf and clove, with an undercurrent of cedarwood and orange peel,” Eduardo recites, like that’s something he read online.

“Did you read that online?” he asks.

“Probably,” Wardo laughs. “It’s still true. Drink your drink, man.”

Mark sniffs his cup and then drinks his rum. It's nice, it's spicy. There’s a warm feeling in his stomach. The room feels very cozy, but that's probably the drugs and booze talking. The sleet has changed to rain. Wardo turns on the television.

*

Mark wakes up because he feels like he is falling out of bed. When he realizes that he is not in bed, he sees that he has been drooling on Wardo's shoulder. Mark cannot tell if the notes of spice and cinnamon, or whatever the fuck they were, whether those are coming from Wardo's neck or the rum on his breath, let out in ragged exhales against Mark's cheek. He has a charley horse in his calf but he's afraid to move.

*   
He does not fall back asleep. There's code waiting to be written over at his desk and he needs to go pee. Wardo snores and talks to himself. The room is way too hot.

*  
Wardo talks in his sleep. In his sleep he doesn't say words that are English. Mark doesn't know what he says, although he thinks he hears  _"Papai,"_ which he has heard Wardo say on the phone before, during conversations where his eyes go black and his mouth is just a thin line. He just knows that Wardo mumbles and flings his arms around and he has to pee. He's had to pee for an hour, at least.

*   
Wardo is gone when Mark wakes up with a crick in his neck. He knows this because he yanks on the throw blanket and there is no resistance, no one tugging on the other end. He has the whole thing, and curls up to face the back of the couch. He doesn’t code, and he doesn’t fall back asleep.

*   
Wardo comes back, later, juggling a cardboard holder with several coffee cups. He hands one to Mark and says, “Here, man, I got you a coffee.” Mark peers down at the lid. “Is it how I like it?” he asks. Wardo presses the cup into his hand. The cup is hot even through the paper sleeve. “Yeah,” he answers, sarcastically. “Two hot cocoa packets mixed with twelve ounces of the crappy light roast,” and here he rolls his eyes, “and then I have to stand there with the sugar dispenser for thirty seconds.”

Mark takes the cup from him and takes a sip. It still isn’t sweet enough. Wardo is probably drinking a double espresso with raw cane sugar. He is fussy with his coffee, Mark knows, and when he gets back from Miami he becomes even whinier about the lack of decent  cafecitos in Cambridge.

“I got you a bagel, too,” he says, and a baggie lands in his lap. He peers inside the brown paper. It’s sesame and smeared thickly with cream cheese, both of which he likes, but it’s untoasted.

“Do you not  _toast_ bagels in the Southern Hemisphere?” he snarks, prising apart the two doughy halves and gobbing up a fingerful of cream cheese to lick off.

Wardo has flopped down at the other end of the sofa and has started to pull out his notebooks and flash cards. He’s changed into his fleece. “Huh?” he says. “Oh, sorry. There was a crazy long line for the toaster.”

“Whatever,” Mark says. He needs to get up and work, too. He still hasn’t so much as cracked his Art History textbook open and the final is on Tuesday. And though he’s getting close to finished with the back-end stuff, finals are going to seriously cut into his coding time. He sort of regrets falling asleep over the last two nights, but he can’t deny that he feels better.

Mark slurps his coffee and watches Wardo fumble with his flash cards. He makes these aggravated noises like a growling bear when he turns them over. Mark looks at his lap while Eduardo pulls on his hair, “I am so fucked, man. I am just so fucking _fucked._ ”

“What,” Mark says, pushing his feet against Wardo’s hip. He is so skinny.

“MDPs,” Wardo says, waving the cards in his direction. “They make no fucking sense.”

“Let me see,” Mark says, reaching awkwardly for the cards. The only muscles that seem to work are in his stomach, and he tries to pull himself up with just those.

Wardo hands him the stack and puts his head in his hands, “I should have studied on the plane, but I just can’t --” he starts. It sounds like there might be something emotional coming.

“--These are dynamic decision-making processes,” Mark says, flipping through the cards. “We use these all the time in programming. Here, look.”

He grabs Wardo’s notebook and a green felt pen from the table and spends the next hour drawing him diagrams. Wardo nods and says “Right right right,” but Mark can’t seem to make him understand, can’t make him get it.

*   
Wardo brings him his laptop and they sit on oppsite ends of the couch, legs stretched out. Mark writes code, very very slowly. Wardo has in just one of his earbuds. The other one is in his lap, and Mark can very faintly hear the riffs of classical guitar.

He looks up from the screen. “What is that?” he says, because it’s pretty.

“Charlie Byrd,” says Wardo, to his flashcards. He’s rubbed the corners of certain equations until they fray. Mark tilts his head and goes back to his work.

*   
Dustin and Chris arrive together. They weren’t supposed to, but Chris’ flight was delayed cause of the snow. They have damp flakes in their hair and Dustin says, “Merry fucking Sunday, bitches,” and holds up two six-packs, one in each hand.

*  
With the four of them there’s no more studying, no more coding. They drink three beers each and Dustin belches. Chris is sending texts putting out feelers for pot, and says, “I should have made you do this, man,” to Mark, “because first day back and campus is  _dry_.”

Wardo laughs. He doesn’t offer to share his Valium.

People come and say hello, other students from down the hall, on their floor. They drift in and out. The door is left unlocked. Everyone is jittery about finals but relieved to be back, too. There are horror stories about travel times, Christmases, families.

Mark is glad to be back, too, although he can’t say this. He just punches Dustin on the shoulder and blows a raspberry at Chris and makes a strange sort of boxing shuffle movement in Wardo’s direction. These are as close as he can come to saying  _I missed you. Welcome home._

*   
Chris finds weed, but they have to go and get it off-campus. Mark doesn’t want to leave the room because he knows it’s cold out, but Wardo persuades him. There is promise of pizza at Emma's afterwards. "I'm buying," says Wardo, expansively, like that's something new.

"It's snowing," Mark says. "It's snowing out."

"Come  _oooonnnn,_ " Chris whines from the open doorway.

“Just wear a hat,” Wardo says. “Do you even own a hat?” Dustin starts picking through Mark’s suitcase and throwing shit on the floor.

“Here,” he says, tossing him a gray-colored baseball cap like a Frisbee. Mark cups the brim in his hands -- it's not the gray he sees but is red, battered -- and puts it on. “Okay,” he says, glancing around at his friends, “okay, I’m ready.”

Wardo is looking at him oddly and reaches his hand out a little. Mark flinches as Wardo touches the logo and says, “Thought you were a Mets fan?” He sounds curious.

“I am,” he says taking half a step back. “I just got this over break.”

“It looks old, “ Wardo says. Dustin is now jogging circles through the three rooms, kicking his knees up, and Chris has his hand on the doorknob and is saying, “Hurry  up, people. We have to be there before he leaves at eight.” Mark clenches his teeth and just says, “Thrift store.”

*   
They smoke a joint with Chris' dealer in a tiny studio apartment. It looks like graduate student housing. The hallway smells like boiled cabbage.

*   
There is pizza with crushed red pepper and more beer. Wardo's knee presses up against Mark's underneath the table. Dustin spills his soda and they all laugh, even though it isn't, objectively speaking, very funny. The waitress glares at them.

*   
They get one last six-pack on the way back to Kirkland. The hall is still buzzing with people. Wardo goes back to his own room when the beer is gone. Mark really wants to sleep, suddenly, but he knows he has to write. He wishes that tomorrow were not Monday, that Monday would not ever happen.

*   
He bombs the Art History final, his fingers stumbling to write clumsy essays, failing to deliver about even the answers he knows. He knows he knows but the words don't form right on the page.

He hasn't slept since Sunday for more than an hour at a stretch. Hunter is not there in the lecture hall. Mark wants to ask the pretty brunette where he is, but when he glances in her direction on the way out of the room, she smiles so coldly that it feels like an iceberg on his neck. Mark looks down at his soaking wet socks and decides that she must be his girlfriend.

*   
He starts his new classes, for Spring semester. The site is getting so close to being ready. His eyes burn all the time. Chris is always trying to get him to smoke pot, which is at least some of the problem. Dustin pukes two times in the middle of the front room, sick off screwdrivers.

*  
Wardo makes the second cut. He is smiling and he is happy when he tells him. They are in Mark's room when he tells him. And he wants to say  _Good for you_ and  _How awesome_ but he just says "we need more server space," and goes right back to work.

He leaves Mark at the computer but he just stares at the screen, eyes unfocused. _Don't leave me,_ he thinks. _I don't want them to take you away._

*   
Wardo is going to get in to the Phoenix and he will be popular. Girls will like him, doors will open up for him, doors that he will go through all by himself, sans Mark.

*   
He doesn't want to be alone any longer.

*   
When Wardo comes to say he's passed the third cut Mark goes to the CVS and stares at the condom display. He buys a ton of stuff and stashes it underneath his bed, buried in a pile of laundry.

*   
He starts to think he might hate Eduardo.

*   
He starts going to the gym, a couple nights a week. He is out of place at the gym, just picks up the free weights idly and feels like a shrimp. He does the leg press, though, and squats, thinking of Ben's ass. He misses fencing, where there were rules.

*   
The coding is finally all finished. The site goes live in January. Mark is proud, he is happy. It's _beautiful._ He doesn't leave his room once that first weekend, just watches the traffic, compulsively. The guys do celebratory bong hits and say something about cheeseburgers.

*   
Wardo talks about ads. He hates ads. There are no ads at punch parties, although there are ads during the Super Bowl, which the four of them watch from a shouting pile on the couch, passing around a bucket of KFC.

*   
When Alice blows him he is not paying attention to anything but the noises from the next stall over. It sends him reeling back to the bar in Chelsea and he laughs like a maniac. Wardo is loud when he comes, and the smile he gives Mark outside the bathroom is one of pure simple glee. Everyone likes a blowjob, Mark figures, Wardo isn't immune to that.

*   
Mark is not a pretty Asian girl. He is awkward with Erica and he wants her to like him again, even just as a friend. She is so fragile-looking but so mean.

*   
He could go to clubs, but that seems wrong. He sucks at clubs. None of the final clubs want him, why would homo clubs want him?

*   
He makes Chris roll him a joint to take out. Wardo is with Christy all the time now. He feels so sad.

*   
He goes back to Lowell. It's been a while. The door is locked. 

*   
The coding is done, mostly. There are new things to build and try, but mostly he looks at the traffic, sitting at his desk.

*  
Dustin is so excited about the site. He has a ton of ideas. Mark just nods and says _fine _ and lets him code to his heart’s content. On Valentine’s Day he stares at the ceiling above his bed and masturbates twice.

*   
The second semester of Art History is even duller than the first. He stops going to class entirely.

*   
Wardo is taking classes mostly in his major and is so, so busy. He has a girlfriend, now, a hot shiny-haired girl who he takes to Rodizio in Somerville and he doesn’t answer his phone right away, anymore. When Mark sees him he is always wearing a suit. He feels very far away.

*   
Dustin and Chris shout all the time. His room feels too communal, all of a sudden. He goes to the gym more often, really just for hanging around, more than anything. Mark is lurking, he knows he is lurking. The internet said the gym was “church for gay men,” but Mark is not gay, and he does not go to church. He is pretty definitely not a man. Did they even mean the Harvard gym? Probably there are special gay gyms, or something. He looks this up on the internet as well.

*   
He doesn’t get any bulkier, which is to be expected from his grueling routine -- twenty minutes of halfhearted walking on the treadmill and tricep presses set at thirty pounds. He attempts some sit ups, which make his stomach throb. Remembering Erica, he uses the Stairmaster. It makes him sweaty and strains the muscles of his ass. Later, in the shower, he gouges his fingers into the sore places.

*  
Wardo comes over when Christy is out of town for the weekend. The room feels okay again, at least it does until Wardo starts talking about money. It’s unbecoming to talk about money all the time, he wants to shout.  _They_ never talk about it, why must you? Popularity isn’t about liquidity, man, don’t you get it, don’t you _fucking_ _get __it_? He keeps his mouth shut, though. Wardo has been weird around him since the letter arrived, and he doesn’t want to make things any worse.

*   
He sees Charlie at the gym, on a Wednesday evening. He is with two tall black dudes, and they all take turns spotting one another on the bench press. Mark watches from across the room, looks at their arms. He prods at his own scrawny bicep, as if that’s going to make him any stronger. He doesn’t go say hello.

*   
He starts going to the gym at the same time every night, because the same people are there, every night.

*   
Mark pulls out his fake and stares at it for a long time. He reads reviews of places by the Fens, because he needs to get as far away from campus as possible. He aches from working out, and when he can’t get out of bed for two days, he figures that is just from working out, too.

*  
The four of them are supposed to hang out on Saturday, but Wardo cancels at the last minute. He sends them all a text that says  _Christy isn’t feeling good. I’m going to stay here with her and watch a shitty movie. Sorry guys. See you next week. _ Chris says, “I think that girl’s a nutjob,” and Dustin says, “Yeah, dude, but have you seen her rack?” and Mark winces when Chris says, “True story, man, true story.”

His phone beeps again, Wardo has texted him again. _I’m really sorry to bail like this. Do you want to have brunch tomorrow? Text me when you get up if you do. W._

Mark stares at his phone for a very long time. He wishes that he was the one who was sick.

*   
Dustin and Chris are shouting and the room smells like BO and farts and geek. He says, “I’m gonna go out,” and they stare at him like guppies. He takes a shower and then gets dressed. They are drunk and ignoring him, anyways. He decides to wear his jeans and his fleece. Plus the baseball cap. 

He texts Wardo on his way to the T station. His head is fuzzy because he asked Chris for a bong hit and he’s drinking a Red Bull. The walk is cold and he texts him back, doesn’t know why he’s texting him back, trying to do something, get a reaction. He wants a reaction.

 _Yeah, just come get me in the morning. Not before eleven, though. I’m going out tonight._

He sits down on the train ride because his legs are shaking.

*   
There are no texts from Wardo when he gets off the train. There are no texts when he tries to figure out which bar to go into, the one that smells like pigskin from the street or the one that looks innocuous, like a sports bar. He checks his phone every ten seconds.

*   
There are no new messages.

*  
He goes into the place somewhere in between. Mark has always found it very hard to smile. He can frown, or smirk, or concentrate, but smiling feels wrong and fake. Despite this, he forces himself to smile at the door guy. His mother has told him to smile more often. _You look so handsome when you do. You have the sweetest dimples._

The door guy lets him in.

*   
Mark reasons that he is not a perverted freak because there are other people here. If he was alone, if it was just him, then he would be a freak. People at Harvard don’t do this, he reasons, but they must do so elsewhere. Mark assumes that they are all townies who only scored 560 on the Math section of their SATs. For some reason this makes him feel better.

That doesn’t mean that he feels brave. He walks straight ahead to the bar and orders a Jaegerbomb. It repeats on him, a little, so then he gets a draft beer to wash it down. The whole bar reeks of stale beer. He looks around, and tries to decide whether or not he feels out of place.

*   
He does indeed feel out of place. Everyone else is older, not decades older, but probably graduated from college a while back. There are some other guys who look closer to his age, but they are wearing tight-fitting t-shirts and they have product in their hair. Mark looks down at his dirty fingernails and feels sloppy.

*   
Someone tries to get him to dance. They look silly, worse than Wardo trying to dance. He checks his phone again. There are no new messages. He dials his voicemail just to be double sure.

*   
Mark hates knowing that he is a coward. He hides behind his blog and his brain and he is nothing but a coward.

*   
There is a back room. It looks like something out of his Art History textbook, only with strobe lights. The lights are erratic and they make his stomach lurch. He has never seen anything like that before, but he doesn’t stay. He watches for two minutes but his brain is overloaded and he runs to the bathroom.

The scene is kind of similar, in there, but it seems a little less scary. There are people kissing, in clumps of three and four. The room smells like sex, like it does underneath his comforter when he’s spent the morning whacking off.

Mark stands in the doorway and tries not to stumble backwards, to trip over his own feet. The smell is incredible, the smell makes his dick twitch. He doesn’t want to go back to his bedroom and the sad, worn familiarity of his own right hand.

He moves forward slowly, like he’s walking through honey. He tries not to stare, because he doesn’t want to lose his nerve but he also doesn’t want to be distracted. He is, however, distracted by the group of people in the far right-hand corner. There is a boy on his knees with his eyes closed, a cock in each hand and one in his mouth, and a guy in leather pants is standing over him holding his head from behind and saying  _Yeah, yeah, yeah_. The guy on his knees looks Hispanic, in the dim light, and he looks utterly blissful. Mark is not sure whether to be repulsed or jealous. He manages to pee and to wash his hands.

Mark thinks he is going to be ill. But people are looking at him, people are seriously _looking_ at him, like they think he’s attractive or something. He stands at the sink much longer than he needs to, rinsing compulsively even though there wasn’t any hand soap in the dispenser. He doesn’t see any paper towels, either, so he wipes his hands on his jeans.

He grips the sink with his left hand and watches, since it seems to be allowed. Other people are watching, masturbating, taking pictures with their phones. His right hand darts between his crotch, steadily, sickeningly awakening, and the outline of his own phone in his front jeans pocket. There is grunting and shouting and words Mark knows you’re not supposed to say to girls if you ever  _ever_ want them to like you. He fists up the denim of his pale jeans in his palm and suddenly cannot tear his eyes away.

There is more grunting and more horrible words and then clapping and laughter. Mark does not understand why everyone seems so happy with what just happened.

The man who was doing the head holding walks over to the sink as well. He uses the sink next to Mark to rinse his hands off and splash water on his face. Mark’s cheeks are so hot, and his dick is hard and he is scared. He gropes at the sink like it has the answer when the guy turns to him and says, “You like?” and Mark nods, stiffly and licks his lips because _he_ _can’t fucking talk._

He has a beard and is wearing brown plaid, and steps in closer and says, “Haven’t seen you before?” and Mark manages to say, “Is that a question,” and the other guy laughs and says, “Yeah, I guess so.” The door is opening and closing and people are leaving the room, letting out some of the stink.

Mark does not know how there are now lips on his own, but he does know he doesn’t like it. He likes the scratch of beard and he likes the musky smell but not the mouth, which is wet and presumptuous with tongue. He shakes his head and half pushes on the older man’s chest and says, “I’m sorry,” and he gets a bite on his earlobe in return. Hot breath in his ear and then tongue in his ear, which makes his dick stir more savagely than it has in  months and saying, “Okay, you don’t kiss, what  _do_ you do?” and Mark amazes himself by reaching under his shirt and touching the fuzz of his stomach.

He feels the edge of the leather pants, tacky under his fingertips, and he shoves his hand down to feel more. The other man groans and says, “Sweet,” and goes for Mark’s own fly and suddenly there is a cock in his own palm, hard and slippery and dripping with sweat.

How he is being turned around, firmly, and his pants pulled down and the appreciative murmur because he’s so tired of wearing underwear and the grip on either side of the sink. He wants to say  _not here, not like this_ but the bathroom is totally empty now except for squelchy sounds coming from the only stall with a door, so that’s not an option. And if they leave he’ll lose his nerve, he’ll chicken the fuck out and have nothing to show for it.

“Do you--” he breathes out, feeling a mouth on him, feeling fingers in him. He pushes his head into his upper arm and tips his hips up and says, “Fuck,” because there are condom noises and then spitting and then a long, burning, burning push and he is  so _fucking full_ he can’t see straight.

He has to grab tightly onto the sink even though he keeps slipping -- so sweaty, why didn’t he take off his fucking fleece?-- and he doesn’t look up in the mirror at the face behind him, but he can see his own. His mouth is red and his eyes are watering profusely, watering because there are hands on his hips, working him, riding him, fucking him into the cold porcelain of the sink basin and he wants to cry out but he says, "wait, wait," and pulls off his fleece so he can bite his upper arm instead, and sucks and sucks, hard enough to bruise, to make himself bleed beneath the skin.

*   
He doesn’t go straight back to the room. He walks and looks at people coming and going, laughing, spitting, hailing taxis and kissing on corners. Everyone is dressed up, because it is Saturday, and people are happy on Saturday nights.

*   
Dustin has puked again, when he gets back to the room. He's certain of it. There is nothing on the floor but the air smells like vomit and orange juice. Mark wrinkles his nose up and goes to sleep with his window wide open, to dissipate the smell.

*   
Wardo has still not texted him back.

*  
He wakes up to Dustin yelling, "Jesus fuck it's fucking _freezing _ in here, why the hell is the window open?" and Chris is grumbly with sleep. Mark's ass stings, and when he scratches it underneath his jeans, the jeans he fell asleep in, he winces because his hips are bruised.

*  
They were supposed to go out alone, but Dustin overhears him talking to Wardo on the phone and says, "Dude, brunch? I fucking  _live_ for brunch!" and Chris is rubbing his eyes and muttering something about French toast, so that when Wardo comes over, the three of them are dressed and ready to meet him.

*   
Wardo does not mention Mark's text. He eats a breakfast burrito and drinks coffee and laughs at Dustin's jokes. Mark feels like his throat is closing up, like maybe he's getting sick. He touches his glands.

"I think I'm getting sick," he says, to the table.

"You should get some orange juice," says Eduardo, snagging a bite of Chris' French toast. "Vitamin C."

Dustin nods helpfully and Mark glares at him and says, "Man, thanks to you and your constant puking, I don't think I can ever drink orange juice _ever_ the fuck  again," and everyone laughs. Mark grins and scratches at his arm. It prickles, it burns.

"What," he says, because Wardo is watching him.

"Nothing," says Wardo, shaking his head and turning his attention back to his coffee cup. "Nothing."

Wardo gets the check. 

*

Mark is so tired. He has no energy. Nothing keeps him interested, nothing keeps him awake.

*   
He takes the T into the city and watches other people dance. He watches things he thought were illegal. He doesn’t kiss anyone, but he watches, because he’s curious.

*  
There are more gym runs, the ritual of walking over the river in the cold early spring, the stillness. He likes the walk, more than the gym, where he often just sits on the edge of the quad press and reads old issues of  _Time_ or  _National Geographic_. Bigger guys come and glare, though, so he moves off the machines.

*   
Dustin is always writing in their room now, which should be good, but he’s so damn annoying. He sings along to the Descendents and is always asking Mark to hand him another beer so he doesn’t have to get up.

*   
Wardo is still talking about money, about advertising. He says a bunch of numbers and percentages, sitting on the edge of Mark’s bed. He wants to make charts, or a Power Point. Mark doesn’t really pay attention to what Wardo is saying, just watches the movement of his lips as he talks.

*   
Mark doesn’t visit the same place twice, for a little while, but then he goes back to the sort-of scary bar by the Fens. It stinks there, worse than the gym, different than Chris’ sweaty socks draped across the common room furniture. Something about the stink makes him feel nice.

*   
February becomes March and spring break is immanent. Mark thinks maybe they can go to Miami, the Keys. He loves the beach. All of them should go, he decides, even Christy if she wants to come along. She’s okay, she’s cool. Wardo seems to like her, and Mark is glad that Wardo has found someone who likes him, too.

*   
He is waiting for his turn at the water fountain, at the gym, when someone is suddenly talking to him. “Hey,” says Charlie, “Long time.” He shrugs his shoulders and then bends over for a drink. His butt brushes up against Charlie, who inhales sharply through his nose.

*   
Mark gets a blowjob of his own in the back room on a Friday at one in the morning. He feels massively uncomfortable about this and leaves right after. The adrenaline evacuates his body all at once, right after he comes. He drags himself to the train station and falls asleep sitting upright, head bobbing on his chest. He makes the transfer in time, but then doesn’t wake back up until Alewife, the end of the line. Mark swears under his breath because he has missed his stop on the last train of the night, and he is beyond fucking tired. He resolves not to walk, and instead paces up and down the sidewalk until he flags a cab, which he deeply resents having to pay for.

*   
Dustin codes and Chris does publicity and Mark is bored out of his fucking mind, most of the time.

*   
Wardo thinks they should go to the city, try to make some ripples over break. He wants to set up meetings, he wants Mark to come with him. Mark thinks maybe he can just go back to his parents’ place and sleep for nine straight days. His back feels like lead.

*   
He sees Charlie at the gym and looks at him for a long time. When Charlie looks up at him, he blinks rapidly and then forces himself to wave. Charlie grins, lopsided.

*   
There is no fucking point in going to class. The traffic is getting heavier by the day, by the hour. Mark is a minor celebrity, and then he is a major celebrity, and it almost feels like he is popular.

*  
Wardo wants to coast, is what he wants to do. Mark wants to tell him that he did all the work, all the work by himself, that Wardo did nothing, that he’s not smart enough or talented enough and that the site, the site is  his. It belongs to _him_. It belongs to him because he made it, and all Wardo did was put up some money. Wardo has _tons_ of money already. The site doesn’t need to make money. It needs to be cool, and money-grubbing isn’t cool. No one in the Porc does that shit. But Wardo doesn’t know that, because his family is all about money. Because he is an immigrant. 

*   
Mark is barely eating. His mother sends him a care package filled with boxes of Cup O' Noodles. She must have gone to Costco.

*   
Mark gives head around the back, where it is less stuffy. He suddenly hates being inside. He wants to be outside. There is an alley behind the bar where it smells like garbage, and there is a brick wall that his head bangs against. The temperature is still below freezing. The man has dark hair and a massive dick that he lets Mark get wet until it drips with saliva and precome. These mix all over Mark’s face. Mark holds his mouth all the way open and feels the head smear across his cheeks, the heat instantly evaporating and turning into glistening streaks of ice.

*   
He says _we_. That this is _our thing_ and _what’s best for us,_ and Mark wants to shove him. Because Wardo gave him money, and that was great, but he could have asked his father, he could have gone to the bank. That wasn’t why he asked for it.

*   
Mark goes out, now. At night or in the evenings. He tells Dustin to tell Wardo that he’s gone out, if he stops by.

*   
He always asks when he gets back, as soon as he walks in the door. Before he goes to brush his teeth while he stands in the shower. He doesn’t ever feel dirty, though. Mark wonders if he should feel dirty, because he sure as hell knows he’s supposed to feel guilty.

*  
Really, he reasons, thirty percent is far, _far_ too generous. He wrote every line of code himself, bled it, sweat it, breathed it, and all Wardo did was write him a check. He stops this line of thinking, because he knows it is selfish and shitty but really, he did all that fucking work. It’s not  _both of ours_ , he wanted to tell him, wants to tell him. He doesn’t, though. Eduardo did bring him all that soup.

*

He asks if Wardo came by. “No,” says Dustin, looking at Mark, lines of code reflected in his eyes. “No, he didn’t.”

*

Christy comes to find Mark, one afternoon when Wardo is in his Young Investor’s meeting. “Guess what,” she says, “guess what.” Mark cannot believe what he is hearing.

*   
Wardo is angry, later. Angry with Christy for doing stuff without him, angry with Mark for being excited. He barges into Mark’s room and he can tell that Wardo is mad at him. The next time he sees Christy she rolls her eyes in Wardo’s direction, and Mark can’t help it, he smiles.

*  
 _Napster. Fucking Napster.  
_

*   
He is elated. If he was a singer he would sing, if he was a dancer he would spin.

*   
Mark goes to the gym that night in a cloud of endorphins. He feels incredible, buzzed. He does not see Charlie that night, but when he walks past the glass-walled basketball courts, he can see Hunter doing layups. He starts to leave, to make his way towards the turnstile, but then he turns back and raps on the glass. Hunter looks up in surprise and then smiles with just half of his mouth.

*   
_Sean Parker. Sean fucking Parker._

*   
Wardo buys the three of them tickets to New York. He wants to take the train, and it’s his money, so they are going to take the damn train.

*   
Mark feels alive, there’s no other word for it. He isn’t sleeping for days at a time, again, and though there’s code -- and there is always, _always_ code -- he spins his wheels by day and goes out at night. Class is pretty much forgotten. The traffic is too heavy for him to go to class.

*   
_Sean Parker knows who he is._

*   
He calls his mom and tries to explain why this is so awesome. She doesn't get it, but she sounds happy for him. She asks if they're going to stop in on the way out of town, that she can meet them at the train station for lunch. She is curious about _your best friend Eduardo,_ she says, she wants to meet him.

*   
She's right, Wardo is his best friend. He hopes he is not supposed to tell his best friend about all the weird gay stuff that he gets up to. He does not want to talk about it, and he doesn't want to be dragged out on double dates.

*   
He definitely does not want Wardo knowing any of this. Or his mom.

*  
There are old burr oaks in the Fens, trees as old as America, trees as old as Harvard. Mark is bracing himself on the trunk of one of these ancient trees, on his hands and knees. He doesn’t feel dirty, even though he's meant to.  _Find a nice Jewish girl, settle down in Connecticut._

*  
Mark is bracing himself against an old oak tree in Boston and saying  _harder, harder, harder _ to the man slamming into his ass. He comes without a hand on his cock, just from the angle. His spunk patters onto dry leaves and he feels giddy.

*   
Wardo is putting together a pitch and a portfolio. He starts coming to Mark's room to practice his spiel, and it sounds okay, but it sounds like a college student playing at being a grown-up. Eduardo draws pie charts on the white board and asks Dustin questions about landing pages and bounce times and his eyes are flashing and his suit jacket is too big.

*   
Wardo has to pull an all-nighter with Christy, who has a Soc midterm. They are going to be at Peet's and then the library, and Wardo says, "Come meet us, come meet us, we can go over the numbers." Mark leaves Dustin listening to the Dead Kennedys on full blast, loud enough to wake up most of the hall, and he goes out, instead, to find Charlie at the gym.

*   
Mark cannot recall ever feeling this genuinely happy in his life. 

*  
He is forward, so damn forward, and says, "Do you smoke," and Charlie says  _yeah_ and they go outside, by the shell of the indoor pool where the generators blow hot air, and they smoke a joint together.

*  
It is warm outside, for March. The smell of ozone is strong, the smell of chlorine is strong. Mark has gravel cutting into his knees and Charlie is not as gentle as he looks, because he is cupping Mark hard underneath the chin and has the other hand wrapped around the back of his neck and Charlie is saying  _fuck that feels good_ and his lips are stretched as wide as they can go.

His jaw relaxes when he gets high, when he gives head. He can unhinge it like a reptile and take everything down his throat. He feels like a rock star and a groupie all at the same time.

Charlie keeps pushing on the back of his head, pushing until he is gagging and choking, until his eyes are watering and there are white spots behind his eyes and he feels like he could come in his pants or do this for the rest of his life, whichever happens first.

*   
When they are packing to go to New York he doesn't bring any special clothes. Eduardo pleads for him to wear a button-down, khakis, a tie.

*  
 _We're a young company,_ he tells Wardo. _This is who we are. This is who I am. Stop trying to change me._

*   
He thinks maybe he'll go out one night. New York is much more interesting than Boston. There is always something new to see, and there are plenty of things Mark is eager to see, if not to do. The internet, once again, proves invaluable.

*   
Mark has started to realize that he is pretty. Not manly, not sexy, but pretty like a girl is pretty. The blowjobs seem so ironic, really.

*   
He goes to Lowell now, because it's closer, it's easy. Much much easier. There's no train to take and he doesn't have to smile. Charlie is nice, if unbelievably fucking stupid, and Mark cannot believe that schools like Harvard let in these utter morons just to play sports.

*  
He has a nice smile, though, and he smiles when Mark hollows his cheeks and sucks him in as deep as he can, always with his eyes closed and says  _goddamn how do you do that_ and in these moments, Mark knows that he is better than any stupid girl.

*

Mark worries about his gag reflex all the time. When he is alone he practices relaxing his throat with his mouth open, because he doesn't want to be an amateur, and he really doesn't want to puke.   
*

The traffic is  _insane_ _._ The traffic is out of control and they need more server space and in a week they are going to New York.

*   
Dustin takes on more work. He says they need more help and starts putting the word out around Dworkin. Chris is great with publicity and the West Coast is blowing up.

*   
Lacrosse practice has started up and he goes down by the fields to watch.

*  
 _Everyone_ knows thefacebook. Even Charlie mentions it, one night, when they have gone back to his dorm room and are sitting on the couch.  _It’s cool, _ he says,  _It’s addicting _ and Mark wants to say  _that’s not a real word_ but he doesn’t because he has done something that people like, that people think is cool.

*  
Christy is actually pretty awesome. She has a raspy laugh and she likes to party. He is surprised that he likes her, although he knows why  Wardo likes her, he is fucking her, and that thought makes him feel weird.

*   
His mouth is full of cock and his jaw burns and he is on his knees.

*   
There is spit when he pulls away, loads of spit, and he suddenly wants to be fucked in the ass. He pulls away and says, “Do you want to--” somewhere in the direction of Charlie’s knee and when there is no answer after thirty seconds he says, “Nevermind” and goes back to giving head.

*   
Charlie comes down his throat and Mark’s tonsils feel bruised and it still is not enough.

*   
Everyone wants to be in on the site, suddenly. Mark should be angry, but he knows that he cannot do all the work by himself. If he could do all the work by himself, he would, because he does not want to share.

*   
He looks on Craigslist, where there are personal ads. Mark decides he does not like complications, but he will use condoms. He is not a fucking idiot.

*   
Wardo talks nothing but business these days. He has stopped saying anything about the site being cool or looking good.

*   
He watches lacrosse practice from the sidelines in the afternoons. He goes to the Sev and gets a cherry slurpee and watches ten preppy dudes shout at one another, waving sticks in the air.

*   
He likes Christy because she tells him he is a genius. Mark knows this already, but he likes to hear it from other people who aren’t his mother.

*   
He wishes Wardo would tell him.

*  
He stands by the lacrosse field and feels like a creep, but then Hunter comes over and takes a drink of his slurpee and says  _how’s it going_ and Mark says  _good, good_ and Hunter shakes his head and goes back out onto the field.

*

Mark is bored of pornography and beyond bored with masturbating. He tries eating to fill the gaps, but he doesn’t want to eat.

*   
So many members. Mark feels so proud every time Dustin hits refresh and calls out a number. It is like a little ping in his stomach. Or his heart. Probably his stomach.

*  
Hunter talks to him on the sidelines now and stares at him. Mark bites his lip and Hunter says  _Jesus_ and he says _what_ and Hunter leans in and says _It's been a while_ and Mark shivers.

*   
His mouth is cold and red from the slurpee and they go underneath the bleachers, even though it is still very cold outside. Hunter is still wearing his practice uniform and the smell of sweat is strong even in the cold.

*   
The sun is setting and there is mist and Mark forgot that Hunter, really, does not have a lot to offer. His mind is elsewhere when he sucks him off.

*  
 _Jesus,_ says Hunter,  _Jesus_ and Mark has his mouth sort-of full and his eyes shut but he still rolls his eyes, sarcastic. _Anyone could do this,_ he thinks. Hell, _Wardo_ could do this.

*  
 _On me,_ he says, wet lips murmuring quietly against the head of Hunter's cock, _on me._

*   
Hunter gasps and comes on his face. Mark licks his lips and wipes his face off. He leaves right after, because Hunter is looking at him weird, like maybe he wants to kiss him.

*   
They eat in a group at the dining hall but Mark can't even eat. He stares at a plate of cold congealing pasta and his stomach hurts. Wardo should be there to nag him but he is busy with Christy and classes and the stupid pitch.

*  
He has sent Mark a text that says  _Please let me buy you a suit for New York _ and Mark does not respond to it. 

*   
Mark cannot stop watching the traffic. He thinks maybe they need to hire some people, like Dustin has mentioned.

*   
They have gone beyond the Ivies. The site brings people together, Mark thinks, it does.

*   
He goes out on a Wednesday when it is quiet. It is just at the start of happy hour and the snow is starting to melt. He is supposed to meet someone at a pub. Everything has been determined in advance. The light is slanty through the windows and he wonders if he should order food, first.

*   
He said he was Portuguese, in his email. Mark saw some pictures. His dick looked gray in the pictures, which means it is really red.

*   
He smells like smoke, when he comes in. He smiles and he smells like smoke and he orders bourbon on ice and Mark stares at his hands.

*   
His name is Felipe and his is from Provincetown and his eyebrows are very dark and meet in the middle.

*   
Mark has already told him, over email, that he does not kiss.

*   
The pattern is familiar, it’s basically just like the bars. First drinks and staring and then there is a blowjob in a bathroom.

*   
Felipe takes him to his house, though, afterward, which is different They are near his apartment and the walk is not very far. There are drifting flakes of snow when they leave the bar, which come harder and faster during their walk as the wind picks up.

*  
Things feel very strange. He is inside this warm house sitting on a worn burgundy sofa with no shoes on and Felipe is putting music on and then rubbing his leg through his jeans and saying  _God, you’re adorable_ and he said, in his email,  _no kissing _ but this man has skin that looks like coffee made cold with too much milk and his eyes are sparkly and Mark wants to say  _ignore that, ignore that_ but he doesn’t because he doesn’t want to change the rules.

*  
He fucks him on the couch, seated on his lap, facing away, facing the television. He leans back into the warm solidity of this stranger and says  _kiss my neck, kiss my neck _ and then _bite me _ and then _harder _ and Felipe splutters out  _Mark, Mark, Mark_ because he told him his real name and it feels so, so, so good.

*   
Mark does not really pack, that weekend. He shoves some stuff in a duffel bag that smells clean enough.


	4. Manhattan

*   
On Sunday they take the train down. Christy sits in between them and keeps her hand on Wardo’s knee the entire time. Wardo is prepping for his pitches, just like he does with his flashcards, but this time he does not ask Mark to help him study.

*   
Mark does not care about business. He does not want to help, really, anyways.

*   
Christy wants to go shopping at Neiman Marcus and Bloomingdale's and Sephora and she is always dragging Wardo ten steps ahead to look into store windows.

*   
Wardo looks unhappy, like he is trying too hard.

*

They have meetings, all the meetings, all the stupid _stupid_ meetings.

*

They don't talk in between the meetings because Christy is right there, in the lobby, in the waiting room, standing outside on the street. She has bought sunglasses and lotion and fancy kinds of chocolate and she laughs all the time and Wardo looks exhausted from trying to keep up.

*  
 _Sean fucking Parker._

*  
Wardo takes them to a steakhouse on Monday night. The lights are dim and the booths are red and he pinches between his eyes and says  _why won't you work with me on this_ and Christy asks for more bread three times in a row.

*   
When they go back to the hotel Mark is alone. He is alone and he can hear them, through the wall. It sounds like arguing, at first, and then it does not sound like arguing any more. 

*  


On Tuesday they have more stupid meetings and Wardo wears his stupid suit and sucks up to men who remind him of his father.

*   
He does not even bother with pretending to pay attention.

*  
They have lunch at a coffee shop because it is easy and Wardo says  _would you please just back me up in these things_ and Christy wants to get frozen yogurt before their next appointment, so they have to hurry.

*   
He does not talk in this meeting, either. He is mentally tallying his sexual encounters, not a one of which Wardo knows about.

*   
He almost wishes that he would ask.

*   
Mark does not even know that he is making noises in the meeting. He is not trying to be rude, not really. He is thinking about going out tonight, since last night he had to sleep with the pillow over his head.

*   
He tried to sleep and he couldn’t because he could hear things and he had to go stand in the shower until he was certain that it had stopped.

*   
Christy was very loud. Eduardo was less so, but he remembered how he sounded that one time, back in the bathroom, so he knows.

*   
“It’s a glottal stop,” he says, “almost like a gag reflex,” which should be some kind of hint that Wardo should catch, should pick up on.

*   
Wardo does not catch on. He gives Mark a look like he is a dog that has just chewed up the leg of an antique chair and his mouth goes tight, like it does when he talks to his father.

*   
They go to Balthazar. It is dark and full of pretty people who wear sunglasses all the time, inside, at night. Christy orders mussels and feeds Wardo French fries and Mark has to look away.

*  
The restaurant is in Soho, which is near Chelsea. Wardo hails them all a taxi and holds the door open for Christy and then waits for Mark to get in before he does. He says _I’m good_ to Wardo’s shoulder and Wardo tries to make eye contact with him and he repeats himself.  _I’m good_ , he says, and he means it, even if he does not feel it.

*  
Wardo says  _okay_ and he looks tired. Mark wants to say _I didn’t mean to make you mad, earlier _ but he is getting into the taxi and slamming the door and staring at the back of the seat in front of him. Christy waggles her fingers goodbye.

*   
Mark is not even drunk. He wants to be drunk, acutely, suddenly.

*   
He puts one foot in front of the other, because that is something. That is motion, and motion makes sense.

*   
Everything is more exciting than in Boston. Even on a Tuesday it is more exciting.

*   
He does not care about music or the stage show, but there are things happening. There are noises coming from corners and tables and lights flashing and it smells like beer and sweat, like a locker room only better.

*   
Mark has long since stopped buying his own drinks. He knows by now that if he stands there for just two minutes, someone will offer to buy him a drink. He loves not paying for anything.

*   
There is music and there are people and he kind of bops his head for a minute and people do buy him cocktails, as he knew they would.

*   
A black guy hits on him. He is clean-shaven and tall and very friendly, but Mark is not interested in him.

*  
A blond guy hits on him and buys him a shot of tequila. He grabs Mark's crotch and says  _let me suck you off_ and Mark shakes his head and says  _no, thanks, man, I'm good _ and the guy goes away.

*   
He is still maybe not brave enough for back rooms, as a participant. But he is happy enough to lean against a wall and watch and imagine what some of these things might feel like.

*   
From what it looks like, they must feel pretty good.

*

Mark leans back against the wall and watches and looks and wonders about getting attention like that. He has his arms folded, which his mother has said is a  _defensive posture_ and his father calls  _off-putting _ and so he drops them down by his sides.

*   
He is not ever sure what he is supposed to do with his hands. Sometimes he thinks they belong to someone else.

*   
The only time his hands feel like his own is when he writes.

*   
Someone comes up next to him and puts their hand on his crotch and his body reacts but he doesn’t go any further with them. They try to go down his pants and undo his zipper but he pulls the hand away, by the forearm, and puts it on his face instead. His breathing is ragged and he feels so confused.

*   
He lets the man kiss him. It is the single scariest thing he has ever done and it makes him gasp and lose his breath and then he has to push away, hard, and go back to the bathroom.

*   
He pushes open the door and wishes that he could hesitate or throw up or something.

*   
It is not dark enough.

*   
No one else kisses him for the rest of the night.

*   
There are corners and there is a bathroom stall with a hole cut into the wall and he’s seen the porn so he goes over there and sinks onto his knees and puts his head down against the wall and opens his mouth and has to let it be okay.

*   
The bathroom stall does not have a door, and people peep in. They gather around and they stare. Mark has to prop himself up, to brace himself with his forearm so he doesn’t get thrown backwards against the opposite side of the stall. It smells woody, and there is a ridge embossing itself on his forehead. He worries for a moment that he may get a splinter.

*  
How would he explain  _that_ to Wardo, he wonders.

*   
Someone stands over his left shoulder and brings his other hand up to touch what’s there.

*   
This happens twice and he still does not get off because he cannot spare a hand to touch himself. He is too busy bracing himself against the wall and feeling the burn at the hinge of his jaw and imagining being watched with dark eyes. That makes him gasp and he tries to let his mind go blank.

*   
His tongue feels numb when he leaves. He is hungry for the first time in ages and goes to Gray’s Papaya and orders a hot dog, and then when he is still hungry, a second one. The irony is not lost on him, and he twists his mouth up in a smile when he is paying.

*   
They are staying in Midtown and he has money for a taxi, but he waits for the train. The station is hot and frightening and there are homeless people who probably live there, by the grates. He doesn’t give them any money when they ask, but he feels very bad about it.

*   
He falls asleep pretty much right away when he gets back to the room. He flops on the bed, still in all his clothes and thinks that he’s supposed to take a shower, after all that, or at least brush his teeth. He runs his tongue over them and then touches his mouth, gingerly, and then his forehead, which is still sore. He wonders if it will leave a mark.

*   
Mark buries his face in the pillow and kicks his feet up because he does not feel exhausted, he feels alive. He does not feel dirty, not one bit. A shower is unnecessary, he decides.

*   
_  
He is so excited for tomorrow.    
_

*   
Christy wants to go to Chinatown and buy knock-offs of things, and Mark has no reason to go with them. He is kind of getting sick of being a third wheel. They are done with the exec meetings, and Wardo is sullen that they did not go well. Wardo is sullen, and Mark does not want to be around him, because he wants to work.

*  
He wants to work because there are lines that need to come out _right now_ and if they do not come out  _right now_ he will lose them.

*  
It would be a lie to say he wants to work because he doesn't necessarily  _want to_ but he  _needs_ to.

*   
He goes to a coffee shop because he is having ideas, all of the ideas. It’s all there, already formed and complete, but he has to get it out onto the screen, he can’t just download it from his brain to the mainframe. He wishes he could only sometimes, when there is too much pushing out on his temples and he knows he should be tired, he knows it is late and he should be in bed.

*   
It is incredible. It is better than sex, it is better than ice cream, it is better than flying.

*

Pictures and images, faces, words. Graffiti like you see scrawled on bathroom walls, in alleys, written on doorways, etched into the bark of trees.

*  
 _Tagging,_ he thinks, _we should call it tagging._

*   
Mark gets a bagel, which is properly toasted with a schmear two inches high and he orders hot tea, which he never drinks, not ever, but his throat still really hurts and feels raw.

*   
His fingers fly and he does not think that maybe he has something to do with Wardo being down.

*   
There is only work and when he is working he is not thinking about himself, or his friends, or what he does at night.

*  
Mark is working and it is wonderful and his hands _fly fly fly_ and he hardly notices his phone buzzing. It is Wardo who says  _we’re done shopping and we’re going back to the hotel _ and he says  _I’m working on something and I’ll just meet you there._

*   
He goes to the drugstore and buys cough drops, cherry flavored. He means to suck on them to help his throat, but he keeps eating them, instead, like candy. His tongue feels fuzzy and he remembers that he still, still has not brushed his teeth.

*  
Wardo and Christy are already there when he gets there. Wardo has changed his clothes and Christy is flashing cleavage and he slides into the booth and drops his backpack under the table and says  _How was shopping_ but he doesn’t really care about the answer because he cannot for one second look away from the door.

*

Eduardo is complaining and Christy wants a cocktail and Mark is staring at the door.

  
_*_   
  
  
_Sean Parker Sean Parker Sean Parker_   


*   
He has to grip the edge of the table when he walks in. He feels like he should stand up, or bow, or clap, or something.

*   
Sean is everything Mark is plus everything he is not. He is a genius, a fucking genius programmer with wicked smart ideas and clean clean code, like Mark is.

*   
Wardo is sullen and Mark thinks Christy might be flirting with Sean. She keeps touching the rim of her martini glass and she does not feed Wardo like she did on Tuesday.

*   
Sean is not like Mark because he is cool, unbelievably cool. Cooler than Elvis, cooler than the Beatles, cooler than Sinatra. Sean makes the waitresses smile and he touches people easily, when he says hello, when he shakes hands, and he looks everyone dead in the eye and is always telling the truth.

*  
Wardo is acting like a little bitch during dinner. He is trying to pitch Sean and Mark is about to turn his head and shout  _Just stop, man, just stop with the money shit, it’s always about the money, about the profit, you fucking shylock upstart money-lending idiot._

*   
Mark knows that this is a horrible thing to think about his best friend, so he is happy when Sean basically says it for him. Sean can say these things and Wardo looks hurt, but at least _Mark_ does not have to say them, even though he is thinking them.

*   
They are eating sushi and everyone is very very drunk and Sean tells stories, all of the stories. California, Silicon Valley. The dot-com revolution, he was there, he was there. He started that shit, really. He is so suave and when he snaps his fingers drinks magically appear.

*   
Maybe not _magically_ , he of course knows that the waitress is bringing them. Still, though, still.

*  
"A billion dollars," Sean says, and it's like the whole world goes white.

*

Mark cannot stop nodding.

*  
 _A billion dollars._

*   
"This is no time to take your chips down," Sean says.

*   
Sean is a _player,_ is what he is.

*   
Mark is suddenly sure that Wardo wants to play penny slots. He wants to play blackjack at the five dollar table, to buy into a high-stakes poker game with nothing more than Chanukkah gelt in a foil-wrapped stack by his elbow.

*   
There are people at Harvard with money, there are families with money. A million dollars is _nothing._

*  
A million dollars is  nothing. It doesn't mean jack shit. A million dollars does not even register anymore. Everyone and their mother is a millionaire, it seems like.

*

Wardo doesn't really need to work at all. He could live off the interest of his capital gains for the rest of his life, easy.

*  
 _A billion dollars.  
_

*  
Other people have money. Capital M money, old New England money. The Winklevii have money, millions of dollars. Final club kids, with summer houses in Newport who grew up sailing and went to country clubs that had not-so secret discrimination policies  ( _No blacks, no kikes_ ) they have money, millions of dollars of money.

*   
A billion dollars is something else. It is beyond cool because no one -- not Wardo, not every member of the Porcellian stacked on top of one another -- no one but Bill Gates and maybe Steve Jobs has a billion dollar company.

*   
Eduardo probably has a million dollars just resting in his bank account right this very moment. He does not need to work, ever, really, if he doesn't want to. He probably has even more in a trust fund, to access when he turns twenty-five.

*

He knows Wardo wants to make his father proud of him, but really, he has money. He has tons of money. He doesn't need to make more.

*  
 _A billion dollars.  
_

*  
 _A billion dollars.  
_

*   
That much money is the kind of money that you never need to even mention. There is no question. There is always going to be enough.

*  
Mark doesn't want a house, or cars, or stuff. He has absolutely no interest in  _stuff._

*   
What he wants is to play poker in that back room. He wants to never worry about tips or paying for hotel rooms. He wants to be above such things.

*   
Everyone knows that the best way to be above money is to have more than you could ever hope to use in one lifetime.

*   
_Everyone_ knows that.

*   
Wardo looks pissed because Sean gets the check. This is always his thing, his friendly generous thing, to pick up the bill, because he has a million fucking dollars, all those zeroes, just sitting there, in his bank account, untouched.

*   
Why _shouldn't_ Wardo always get the check? He can afford it. It doesn't even make a dent, probably.

*   
Sean says "Drop the 'the,'" and glides out of the room.

*   
Mark wants to play poker. He wants to party until sunrise. He wants to never worry, never ever ever again. 

*

They are in a taxicab leaving 66 and going back to Midtown, to the hotel. Wardo and Christy only want to take taxicabs in the city and Christy is sleeping in between them with her head on Wardo’s shoulder.

*   
Mark doesn’t want to spring for cabs, but Wardo is paying, so they take a cab. It smells like must and leather, and for a split second Mark is confused.

*

Normally Mark is the one to look away. He knows something is wrong because tonight Wardo is looking away.

*  
 _Sean fucking Parker.  
_

*   
Christy is sleeping and there, like she is always there.

*   
That was really good, Mark thinks, that went really really _good._

*   
Wardo is looking out the window and they are driving through Midtown and then he says, “That’s got to be some kind of landspeed record for talking,” and Mark has to ball his hoodie up in his hand.

*   
Sean Parker. Fucking Napster, Wardo, fucking _Napster._

*  
What kind of a party must  that have been. Silicon Valley in the 90s? Insane, just _insane._

*  
Girls making out with one another and poker tables and ecstasy and top shelf booze and bartenders in black vests and cigars and scotch and  _easy easy easy._

*   
But Sean is also cool. He is not a member of a final club, but he is beyond cool.

*   
Wardo is going to be the next Chairman of the Fed.

*   
Wardo is already going to a party.

*   
Mark knows, secretly, that he is never going to get punched.

*   
Wardo is through the third cut and he is almost across the finish line.

*   
Wardo is not supposed to be a racehorse. He is not supposed to be an Arabian thoroughbred leaving Mark behind, kicking up his heels in a cloud of dust and dirt.

*   
Wardo is no cooler than Mark is. With his baggy suits and his flashcards and his horrible clothes at AEPi theme parties.

*   
Now he will be the kind of person who wears a tuxedo and goes to weddings at Martha’s Vineyard and goes skiing over break.

*

Christy is sleeping; Christy is between them.

*  
 _Sean Parker. Napster. Silicon Valley. The dot-com revolution.  
_

*  
Fuck you, Wardo, Mark thinks,  _fuck you._

*   
I’ll bet those were even better than Phoenix parties, Mark wants to tell him.

*   
“You want to end the party at eleven,” he snaps, back. Because Mark knows that he is very angry.

*   
You’re through, you’re making it.

*   
_  
You’re going to make it.   
_

*   
This is my party. _This is my party._

*   
He could shout. He wants to shout.

*   
This is his party, where he can be the host and the guest of honor and the most important person.

*   
His fucking name is on this invitation.

*

This is his white envelope slipped under the door.

*

 _This is his fucking turn.  
_

*   
California is calling.

*   
New York is cold and Boston is cold and he’s never going to see Miami so he might as well go out to California.

*   
He wants Wardo with him. Maybe away from school, the old world, his father.

* _  
Maybe he will see._  


*   
Mark wants to make a joke about the Marlins and Florida, but he is no good with jokes.

*   
He wants Wardo to stop frowning like that.

*   
He does not know how.

*   
He does not know why.

*   
He asks, cautious, “What did you think,” and Wardo says “Fine, let’s drop the ‘the,’” and Mark hears his voice break and he thinks that Wardo sounds as tired as Mark feels.

*  
He said  _let’s_. He said  _us._

*   
Does thefacebook -- no, no just _facebook_ \-- does it belong to both of _us_ , really?

*   
He doesn’t think so.

*   
This is his fucking turn.

*   
He does hate Wardo for making it.

*   
Wardo says facebook is a business.

*   
facebook is a party. facebook is not a business.

*   
He’ll boot up the computer and check plane tickets to SFO when he’s back in the room.

*   
Wardo’s voice breaks when he talks and Christy is sleeping.

*  
Mark wants to say  _Let’s do this._

*   
He was not invited to Wardo's party.

*  
Mark wants to say  _us._

*   
Wardo could still be part of this party, if he wanted.

*

If he plays by the right rules.

 _*_

 _I need you.  
_

*   
But it is cold and they are in Manhattan not Kirkland and Christy is sleeping on Wardo’s shoulder.

*   
Wardo does not say anything for the rest of the ride.

*   
They pull up in front of the hotel and Mark does not want to go back inside.

*   
All those cocktails, he should be drunker than he feels right now.

*   
He wants to go get more drunk.

*   
Not at a fancy sleek bar with white booths, though. He wants to be drinking watery draft beer at wood-paneled bar off Harvard Square with the guys and for everyone to just be wearing their regular clothes and for Wardo to laugh, or smile, or something, not just stare out the window like he is doing right now.

*   
They pull up to the hotel and Wardo pays the driver and holds the door for Christy.

*   
He holds the door for Christy in her short skirt and tottering high heels and Mark does not want to walk through the lobby with them, does not want to ride the elevator next to them, does not want to watch Wardo fumble with the room key while Christy slumps drunkenly on his shoulder.

*   
“Mark?” says Wardo, and he is holding the cab door open and looking in and Mark is staring at his hands that don’t feel like his own.

*   
“Mark?” Wardo says again, and then Christy says, “I’m freezing, what’s the hold-up?” and Mark says, “I’m going out for a while,” to the back of the headrest, and Wardo sounds so tired and says, “Are you sure?” and Mark says, “I need to think about some stuff,” and Wardo does not want to go out drinking, he does not want to hang out.

*  
He does not say  _I’m here for you._ He says  _Do what you want._

*   
Mark does look back, to see if Wardo is watching the taxi pull away.

*   
He has his hand on Christy’s lower back and is steering her gently towards the door, where a doorman in blue is holding it open for them and Mark feels a lump in his throat.

*  
He asks the driver to turn the air on and the driver says  _It’s March, are you fucking out of your mind?_ and he sounds like something out of a movie.

*   
He does not feel like he is living in a movie, though.

*   
The taxi flies down Sixth Avenue and drops him off and he tips like usual.

*   
There are bars like usual and people like usual and it is Wednesday and it is cold out but he is burning up inside.

*   
He buys his own drink, because he cannot wait to be drunk. He cannot wait on anyone else to get him drunk.

*   
People look at him and he sneaks cautious glances at them from his perch at the bar.

*   
It takes half an hour for him to see anyone he likes.

*   
He does not go to the bathroom. He is tired, really, of going back there, even though it makes him feel incredible, tonight he does not want to go back there.

*   
He is on his second whisky with ice before he settles on someone.

*   
He pokes the ice cubes down with his fingertip and then puts his finger in his mouth.

*   
It tastes like peat and smoke and heather, whatever that tastes like.

*   
He misses Dustin making everyone laugh. He misses Chris being a dork.

*   
He misses the snow, really, because he is always so hot.

*  
He orders another drink for himself and asks the bartender to  _please get him one, too._

*  
His hands are tingly and he puts them in his pockets when the guy comes over and says _hey, thanks_ and Mark says _no problem _ and he is concentrating very hard on making eye contact, to not seem weird.

*   
He is taller than Mark is and more solidly built and he is wearing a gray sweater and he looks like hot chocolate and he is lovely.

*  
His name is Javier and he says _here_ when Mark asks where he is from.

*  
 _I meant your family,_ Mark says.

*   
__

_Ponce,_ he says, tipping back his glass. Mark watches his throat as he swallows.

* __

 _And then Harlem.  
_

*   
Mark is nodding and he wants to put his fingers in this person’s hair.

*   
They have another drink and Mark is nervous but he does it anyways.

*   
He closes his eyes tight and leans forward and plants a kiss near Javier’s mouth.

*   
He does not quite make it. The kiss lands wrong in the corner of his mouth and all he can taste is whisky.

*  
Javier laughs and slips his hand down to Mark's hip and says  _let's try that again, rizadito_ and Mark likes the way his 'r's sound and he feels like his knees might buckle.

*   
There is a real kiss, a real kiss. There is tongue and Javier is holding him upright, really, with his hand resting on his hip.

*   
Mark feels like he is on fucking fire.

*   
He brushes his hair from behind his ear like they do in the fucking movies and he smiles at Mark and his teeth are so white.

*   
More kissing.

*  
Javier laughs and tugs a little on his sleeve and whispers, rumbly sexy low in Mark’s ear,  _should we_ \-- and Mark knows how this works and what comes next.

*   
He is not even really that turned on. He wants to go home, suddenly.

*   
Mark kisses him again and clutches at his sweater like he is holding on for air.

*  
He grips back on the other man’s arm and says  _I’m staying in Midtown._

*  
Javier says  _cool _ and Mark adds, quickly,  _Just through tomorrow. I leave tomorrow._

*  
 _Cool,_ he says, laughing.  _Let me just say goodbye to my friends._

*   
There is another kiss and the room is way too hot.

*   
He has white teeth and a long neck and he does nothing but smile.

*   
He smells like apples or brandy or pomade.

*   
Mark is so drunk, dizzy drunk, reeling drunk.

*   
Mark thinks he cannot ever be drunk enough.

*   
Javier goes for his coat and then starts saying goodbye to people at tables and along the bar.

*   
Mark feels more uncomfortable right now than ever before.

*   
He knows the bartender, the DJ, the busboy, the dancers. They say goodbye to a third of the club, it seems like.

*   
Mark keeps his hands in his pockets.

*   
Apparently Javier is popular.

*   
Which means, ipso facto, that Mark is popular, too.

*   
At least by default, or extension, or whatever.

*   
The saying goodbye takes forever. Javier knows everyone. His friends look at Mark and then look back at him and smile.

*   
He feels so weird.

*   
He keeps his hands in his pockets and his cheeks are on fire.

*  
Javier is air-kissing and hugging and then waving and says _later, faggots_ and Mark cannot believe that he just used that word. No one has ever used that word that didn’t kick him in the shins, immediately afterward. It makes him reel and everyone is is laughing and they all laugh and he does not understand how they can laugh if someone is saying that, to them.

*  
Javier is blowing air kisses to the door guy and talking to someone who might be a woman, maybe, and saying  _ciao, ciao _ and then they are out on the street.

*   
It is not that far to Midtown.

*   
It is snowing, light flakes of snow that are wet and orange under the streetlights.

*  
Javier is jumping up and down like he is trying to get warm and saying  _brrrr _ and Mark says  _Do you want to walk _ and Javier looks at him like he is crazy, so he goes over to the curb to hail them a taxi.

*   
He tries to be polite like Wardo, hold the door like Wardo.

*   
He wonders if he should mention Harvard.

*   
They are in the taxi and he is closing the door and he realizes he is almost out of cash.

*   
"I'm almost out of cash," he says. "We need to swing by an ATM," he says, because they are going to his hotel, and he should pay.

*   
It is only polite to pay.

*  
Javier is scratching his nails against the outline of Mark's dick, which is somehow getting stiffer right there in the back of the damn cab and he says  _I'll spot you, don't worry_ and Mark wants to say  _You're from Harlem, I should pay_ and then there is a deft hand reaching into his fly and then pulling his dick out and jerking him off and he is trying to keep his eyes open, trying to not just look out the window.

*   
His breath is ragged and Javier is sucking on his neck like a vampire, biting, and it feel amazing, amazing enough that he stops caring about the ATM.

*   
"I want to fuck you," Javier says, and that makes Mark shudder and he wishes that they had stopped off at a bodega because he is still, _still,_ not drunk enough. 

They pull up again in a cab once again and Mark’s dick is out and he has to fumble to put it away, still hard, while Javier pays for the taxi. He can’t offer any money because he is flustered and turned on and all he wants is to go inside and lie down because he is so very _very_ drunk.

*  
Mark wonders what the hell an appletini is anyways. He doesn’t know what kind of alcohol is green.

*   
Probably something gross. He feels like he might be sick to his stomach if he thinks about it too hard.

*  
They are walking over the pavement and there is a hand on  _his _ back this time and it is cold outside but the lobby is warm and bright.

*

He has never been so drunk, really, in his life.

*  
 _Creme de menthe is green.  
_

*  
They stumble to the elevator which is all lined in mirrors and brass and he says  _what floor _ and Mark says  _twelve_ and then the door close and there is kissing, kissing.

*   
Creme de menthe tastes like mint, though, not apples.

*   
Everything is a blur of brass and lips and hot hot breath and _so drunk._

*   
It didn’t really taste like apples do, though.

*

The door  _pings_ and Javier is following Mark down the hall. He is reeling very slightly, because of the appletinis. Sean ordered them a _lot_ of drinks.  
*  
Sean Parker ordered _him_ , Mark Zuckerberg from Dobbs Ferry, a drink.

*   
If he had to pick a flavor for things he would go for cherry and then grape. Nothing is as gross as watermelon, though, except maybe for coconut.

*   
The hall is so bright and his neck is flaming from all the biting.

*  
He bumps into a room service cart that has been left outside in the hall and says  _oh shit _ when the metal tray makes a loud clanging noise and Javier laughs and Mark thinks that they should be being quiet.

*   
He cannot make the key work, the light is beeping at him.

*   
Javier is rubbing up behind him and saying words Mark does not understand that tickle him.

*   
He cannot tell if the light is red or green because he cannot see red or green.

*   
It sounds like Spanish. It sounds _wonderful._

*   
They did not taste like apples, not really. Jolly Ranchers, maybe.

*   
Probably that is why girls drink shit like that.

*   
Javier wriggles his way closer to Mark and he can feel his erection pressing against the lower part of his back and he still cannot make the key work.

*   
There is more murmuring and he wants to be horizontal with his eyes closed, really. Right now, right this instant.

*   
Were those a cool thing to order? He should have told Christy to let Sean decide.

*  
Javier is laughing and plucking the key from his hands and saying,  _let me, papi, let me _ and Mark is wondering why that sounds so familiar and really, if they are making too much damn noise.

*   
It’s not like the two of _them_ didn’t make any noise.

*   
Wardo can sleep through anything, really. You could drop a piano on him and he still wouldn't wake up. He is conscientious to a fault, but he still has to set two alarms to make sure he gets to class on time.

*  
And then the door handle is turning and they are kind of falling inward and Mark is saying  _Shhhhh--shhhhh--shhhh--_ and Javier says,  _you are drunk, papi_ and making him sit on the bed and then bringing him a glass of tap water from the bathroom and making him drink it.

*   
Mark cannot remember if New York tap water is safe to drink or not.

*   
He decides the green alcohol will kill whatever is in there.

*   
When he finishes he doesn’t put the glass down right away because it is something to do with his hands.

*   
Javier is kissing him again. It is so nice even though he feels ill and sick to his stomach, full of drinks and sushi and adrenaline swallowed down. Or nerves. He was nervous, earlier, and he is nervous now.

*   
It's not like he's doing anything new. It's not like he's being unfaithful. He doesn't even have a girlfriend to cheat on. 

There are fingers in his hair and it feels so nice. Javier is using his fingers like a comb and pulling out Mark’s curls so they stretch out long and he is smiling, so warm.

*   
He has a crinkly smile and he is carding his fingers through Mark's hair.

*   
He is letting himself be kissed again and he is trying very hard not to pull away.

*  
There are hands in his hair and cupping the back of his neck and he says  _angelito _ and Mark is sick to his stomach because this feels horrible and he knows it is supposed to feel nice.

*   
His response is to slide onto the floor.

*   
Javier runs the back of his hand across Mark’s cheek and then he touches his hair again.

*  
He touches his hair so much, softly, and finds a tufty bit at the back to entwine his fingers in and he wraps it around his forefinger and  tugs and then says _mi cielo _ and Mark knows that is something nice, as well.

*   
It is so different from the other things most men say.

*  
But right now he feels sick and guilty and like he is doing something wrong, which is against logic. Logically he should feel bad when he is sucking off strangers who say  _greedy little pig_ but he never does, not once.

*  
He feels awful when Javier runs his knuckles down his face and then directs him, with his fingertips, to look  up. He never does that, actually, either.

* __

 _Aqui, aqui,_ he says, gently, and Mark has not been this close to tears since his first day at Exeter.

* __  
 _He cannot do this, he cannot fucking do this.  
_

*  
He sits up and starts fumbling, starts trying to get Javier’s cock out so he can stop feeling all these feelings and he pushes his head back and says _slow down, papi, slow down _ and he does, because he has to listen, not because he wants to.

*   
They do slow down. It is gentle until it is not gentle any more.

*   
Mark lets the head of Javier’s cock rest on his lower lip and he teases it with his tongue, licking.

*   
This he understands.

*   
He pops it in and out and he knows he is being watched, because he has his own eyes open and he is looking up, through his eyes which are heavy with drink and tiredness.

*   
This he understands.

*

He bears down on it, slick and hot and mindless. It is something to focus on, to occupy his mouth and hands and some of his brain.

*   
His nose is bumping against his stomach and when Javier’s cock is teasing the entrance to his throat, he can’t keep his eyes open any longer.

*   
His eyes start to water and he swallows, over and over, with the single intent of getting the other man off, harder than he has ever come in his fucking life.

*   
Partly because he can.

*  
He is gulping and gasping, because it is hard to get air, and he loves it. It hurts so wonderfully and he fucking  loves  it.

*   
Partly to make him be loud.

*  
Javier pushes him back, though, pushes him out of the relentless tempo he’s built up and says  _despacio, despacio_ and then pulls him up by his armpits and spreads him out on the bed.

*   
And suddenly there is a body on top of his own. Pressing against his own, an erection against his leg and lips on his neck and a hand stroking his hair and his cheek and his hair again and he feels confused.

*  
Javier says  _Can I fuck you, Mark? _ and he nods, dumbly. His mouth is dried out again and he needs more water.

*   
And then he is naked too, totally naked, even without a shirt on, and Mark cannot remember the last time someone who wasn't Dustin or Chris or Wardo saw him shirtless, and he wants to cover himself or lock himself in the bathroom again until 2006.

*   
Instead he is being touched. Touched and kissed and having words mumbled against his neck and then there are fingers in him and he stops trying to stop thinking, because then, then at least, he is not thinking.

*   
He has only been fucked on his back once before, he realizes.

*   
He realizes this because the other man keeps kissing him.

*   
He is being fucked while someone kisses him and he is so confused.

*   
Mark stares at the ceiling and he knows this is supposed to be the best way for it to be, if you care about someone. But he does not care about this person whose weight is making him lose his breath and whose hair smells like oranges.

*   
He does not want to be treated like this.

*   
Javier is speeding up and saying all those maybe nice things and he cannot take it any fucking more.

*  
 _Come on me_ he says, to the ceiling, his neck straining back against the headboard. Javier licks at his Adam's apple and he feels nauseous. Mark says it again, louder this time.

*  
He says  _you sure_ and Mark says _just fucking do it already _ and he thrusts half a dozen more times and then pulls out and tugs the condom off and comes on Mark's stomach.

*   
Mark watches this through glazed vision.

*   
This he understands.

*   
His stomach is wet and the warmth is quickly dissipating and then there are more firm strokes on his own cock and then he is coming, too, and his stomach is warm again, for a minute.

*  
Javier says  _we should clean you up_ and then he does.

*

With his tongue.

 _*_

 _With his fucking tongue.  
_

*   
It makes Mark feel queasy to watch. It makes him feel even queasier when Javier kisses him afterward.

*  
They lie there for what feels like a long time and then Mark finally says  _I have an early train_ and Javier says  _Can I crash here, I love hotels _ and Mark wants to say  _get the fuck out, you had your fun _ but instead he says  _sure_ and then  _I'm going to take a shower _ and the other man asks  _Do you want some company in there, angelito?_ and Marks shakes his head maybe too fast and says  _no, thanks._

*   
He washes his hair two times. His head feels dirtiest of all.

*   
He stands in the shower for a very long time.

*   
It feels like he is missing something.

*   
There is something he does not understand.

*   
He wishes he could talk to someone about this stuff, actually. Maybe he could ask Chris.

*   
Javier is starfished in the middle of the queen-sized bed when he gets back, tangled in the covers. He is snoring through his mouth.

*   
Mark looks at him for a long minute and tries to understand what is going on and why he feels so disgusting.

*   
He puts on a long-sleeved t-shirt and then another t-shirt over that because he is so scrawny and he hates how he looks.

*   
He edges himself to the far end of the bed and tries to sleep with half his body hanging off the bed, so that no one else touches him.

*   
He does not sleep so much as black out. 

*

When he wakes up he is hot because there is a body pressed up against his and his mind goes  _what the fuck_ and then it all comes flooding back.

*

 _Sean Parker-Tribeca-66-appletinis- Napster-facebook-drop the the-Wardo’s face-Chelsea-sex with a stranger who was way too nice._

*   
A stranger who is still way too nice, because he is still fucking there, pressed up against Mark with his arms curled around him.

*   
This is very weird.

*  
His head is  _killing_ him. He winces trying to tally up all of the drinks he must have had and then Javier squeezes him and says  _buenos dias mi amor _ and Mark knows what all those words mean and what he wants, more than anything right now is to not be here.

*   
He needs more water. He needs Tylenol and a dark room and noise-cancelling headphones and forty straight hours of sleep.

*   
That is not going to happen. He is being pulled in closer, wriggled up to, closer. It’s supposed to be so nice and and he feels beyond ill.

*  
He keeps his eyes shut the whole time. Javier spoons him and kisses his neck and touches all down his front and and keeps  talking the whole time, as he takes him from behind and Mark comes when he touches him and his eyes are shut the whole time.

*  
He needs another shower. Javier is saying something about breakfast and Mark is saying  _I have to get going, sorry _ and then he takes another damn shower, shorter this time.

*   
He does not feel bruised at all. He would rather feel bruised.

*   
He would rather be covered in bruises than feel like this.

*  
He has to go out and get his clothes from his duffel and Javier is still there, sprawled out across the bed and watching television. He has managed to put on his jeans. Mark is wearing just a towel and he is still damp and cold and he wants to be alone  right this instant.

*   
There is a knock on the door and he really hopes that it is just Housekeeping.

*  
It is Christy. She is looking at him with a kind of incredulous look and then she says  _we’re gonna go downstairs for breakfast do you want to come with _ and Mark hears stirring from behind him and he is nervous as hell and he walks into the hall without thinking about it and the door slams shut before he realizes what has happened.

*  
He says  _shit _ and Christy says  _do you want me to call the front desk _ and Mark says  _um _ and then Javier is opening the fucking door and saying his name and he wants to melt into the floor because is he wearing nothing but a towel and both of them are staring at him and staring at each other and he feels so skinny.

*  
They both say  _oh hey_ and Mark says  _no, I’m cool _ and Javier says  _what are we doing_ and Mark wants to shout  _there’s no fucking we, man, I just met you like five fucking minutes ago _ and but instead he says  _I want to go out instead _ and Christy is peering at him like he’s a butterfly pinned to a piece of cardboard and she says  _should I get Eduardo_ and Mark says  _No, I’ll just meet you guys at the station _ and Javier says  _nice to not quite meet you_ , and they both laugh and Mark is certain that they are laughing at him.

*   
They go out for breakfast at a shitty coffeeshop in Midtown. Javier tells him that Midtown has like, no good breakfast, and if they had more time they would go to Les Deux Gamins or Cafe Condesa and he asks for Mark’s phone number when they are saying goodbye and Mark has never, ever, ever felt so sick.

*   
He throws up in the bathroom at Penn Station.

*   
His stomach is a mire of Denver omelet and coffee and sushi and appletinis still, still, and the bathroom is unventilated and it smells like homeless people in there and his face is so hot and he pukes until his stomach is empty and his throat is raw.

*   
He sits on the toilet seat for what feels like ages.

*   
He goes to Dunkin Donuts and gets an iced coffee with tons of sugar.

*   
He feels slightly better now that he has puked.

*   
He meets Wardo and Christy by the bus platforms. Christy is loaded down with shopping bags and Wardo is wearing his fleece and he does not look at Mark.


	5. Movement

*   
He doesn’t talk or code or anything on the ride up to Dobbs Ferry. He leans back and listens to his headphones and keeps his eyes closed.

His mom meets them at the station, and she is super nice to everyone and really glad they’re staying the night. She makes Wardo ride up front because  _he is so tall, sweetie_ and he feels bruised from inside and is glad to be at home.

*   
Christy helps his mom in the kitchen and they make cookies and she tries to show Arielle and Donna how to crunk and they all look completely ridiculous and everyone else is laughing.

*   
They stay in and there are video games and board games and no drinking, because no one is legally old enough to drink.

*   
Mark’s mom lets them all have one glass of Cab Sav at dinner. She has made a brisket and the house smells amazing.

*   
His father does not say anything rude about NAFTA, which is something.

*   
Wardo is unfailingly, unflinchingly polite.

*   
There is almond cake and everyone watches a movie and Mark is not paying attention to anything but the way the screen reflects back, blue, onto the side of Wardo’s face.

*   
The whole living room is flickery and blue and then Donna starts whining about wanting popcorn, so they have to pause the movie and make like eight bags of popcorn.

*   
There are too many people and not enough bowls so he and Wardo are sharing.

*  
He doesn’t even really like popcorn all that much. He keeps eating it, though it makes his hands greasy and he wipes them down the front of his sweatshirt and and his mom says  _tsk_ just as Wardo hands him a piece of paper towel and says _here._

*   
He does not say _thank you_ , even though he knows, inside, he is supposed to say thank you.

*   
He is still sore from all the sex.

*   
Mark spends the whole movie thinking about whether Wardo knows.

*   
Wardo eats his popcorn and wipes his hands on a napkin and does not look over or down or to the side.

*   
Christy has a big fucking mouth.

*   
She probably told him.

*   
It’s not like he can ask her.

*  
When everyone breaks up his mom says  _let me get the fold-out set up for you_ and then she and Christy are making the bed and then there is nowhere to go but his bedroom upstairs.

*   
They don’t have a spare room anymore.

*  
They take turns in the bathroom. Wardo goes first and Mark changes into his sleep pants, which have soccer balls and basketballs on them, that his mother handed him as they went upstairs. She took away his duffel bag and said  _This is probably festering with germs. I’ll wash it for you._

He finds a gray t-shirt that was left behind because he outgrew it just in the torso so it rides up over his stomach. He is barefoot and waiting for the sink.

*   
He is holding on to his toothbrush very tightly.

*  
He can hear them talking. He can hear him saying _I miss you too but it's just for one night_ and Christy purring  _they're so old-fashioned. Why can't we have Mark's room _ and Mark wants to open the door and hit her in the face.

*   
Obviously you are not supposed to do that.

*   
You can't even make jokes about hitting girls.

*   
Mark would of course, not ever hit a girl.

*   
Christy would probably kick the crap out of him.

*   
She's kind of scary.

*   
And then she keeps purring and he can see her grabbing Wardo's back, his t-shirt, which is black. She goes up on her tiptoes to kiss him because he is very _very_ tall.

*  
Mark can only see Wardo's back and he is gripping his toothbrush like it contains the answer to the co-NP problem and Wardo says  _We have to be respectful _ and Christy whines and says  _I miss youuuuu _ and Mark waits by the door, holding his breath.

*   
Wardo says goodnight to Christy at the top of the stairs and he can hear them kissing through the door, because the door is not shut.

*   
The kissing is very loud. 

Wardo breaks away from Christy and starts walking back so Mark has to act like he was just coming out the room, casual, to avoid suspicion. It’s not like he’s doing anything suspect or wrong. It’s _his_ house. He’s just waiting to use the bathroom.

*  
There is an awkward moment on the landing and Christy looks at his pants and says  _what are you, twelve_ and Wardo smiles at her and Mark really hates them both and he goes into the bathroom and brushes his teeth while he watches himself in the mirror.

*   
He is not used to feeling like this.

*   
People say he is like a machine, which is not true. He has feelings, he cares about things.

*   
But what he does not understand is the in-between stuff. Because for him it is binary--

0s and 1s and ON/OFF or Y/N or TRUE/FALSE

*  


 _[script language="javascript" >  
function window.confirm(str) {_ _  
execScript('n = msgbox("' + str + '","4132")', "vbscript");_ _  
return (n == 6);_ _  
}_ _  
]_

*

\--not this maybe, this shades of gray.

*   
_  
01010111010010000100000101010100001000000100100101010   
_

_  
01100100000010101000100100001001001010100110010000001   
_

_  
01001101001000010010010101010000100000010101110100100   
_

_  
00100000101010100001000000100010001001111010001010101   
_

_  
00110010000001001001010101000010000001000001010011000   
_

_  
10011000010000001001101010001010100000101001110   
_

*   
The switch is either [ON] or [OFF].  


*   
There are only ever two options.

*

 _  
BOOL x = FALSE;   
_

_  
....some statements   
_

_if (some condition )  
{_ _  
x = TRUE;_ _  
}_ _  
else_ _  
{_ _  
x = FALSE;_ _  
}_

 _if (x == TRUE)  
{_ _  
some stuff_ _  
}_

*   
Mark spits into the sink and tries to decide if this is a metaphor.

*   
He is way confused. Weirdly, he wants to talk about it.

*   
He is glad to be home.

*   
He wants to go back in his old bedroom and say something to Wardo.

*   
He does not yet know the content of this something.

*  
 _SELECT C.CategoryName, Count(P.Post_ID)  
FROM Category C INNER JOIN Posts P_ _  
ON P.CategoryID = C.CategoryID_ _  
GROUP BY C.CategoryName_ _  
UNION_ _  
SELECT NULL, Count(P.Post_ID)_ _  
FROM Posts P_ _  
WHERE P.CategoryID IS NULL_ _  
GROUP BY NULL_

*   
This something is a null category.

*   
He kind of wants to kiss Wardo, he thinks, maybe.

*   
He kind of wants to never speak to Eduardo again.

*   
He brushes his teeth again, just to stay in the bathroom a little longer, to try and figure out if the switch is [ON] or [OFF]. 

Mark looks at himself in the mirror. There are plenty of things he does not get, does not understand. About himself, about other people. About Wardo, who is, obviously, other people.

*   
He knows 0/1 and ON/OFF and YES/NO and sometimes nothing else.

*   
He shrugs to himself in the mirror, because this is all so very strange.

*   
Mark tiptoes back to his bedroom and opens the door. All the lights are out but the one lamp on the nightstand. Wardo is on the bed with his legs folded Indian-style and he is staring very hard at his cuticles when Mark comes into the room.

*   
He puts down his toothbrush and climbs onto the bed, too, on the other side.

*   
“I can switch,” he says, because he wants to be polite. And Wardo says “huh” in return and Mark says "If you and Christy want to sleep together. Once my parents are asleep I can take the couch. I really don’t mind.”

He does not say this insincerely. He really and truly does not mind. He fully expects Wardo to say  _yeah, great _ and be stoked to nail his girlfriend four nights running, even if they will have to be quiet, somewhat.

Wardo is staring at his fingernails and then at Mark’s bare feet, because Mark is sitting with the soles of his feet pressed together and is picking at a callus splitting open from from too many days of walking around the city and he says, again, to show that he means it, “I really don’t mind.”

There is a long silence and he works a small piece of skin up off his foot, picking. It’s a bad habit. He shouldn’t do it. He probably shouldn’t do a lot of things, that he does.

Wardo is quiet and so is he and then he says, “So are you, like, gay now?” and Mark says “what” although he pretty much expected that question. “Just tell me,” Wardo says, and his voice sounds ragged, it sounds broken in the middle. “Why didn’t you tell me? You never tell me anything, anymore, Mark,” and the tone of his voice is condescension mixed with something else, that sounds like sorrow, that sounds like hurt.

“Just tell me,” says Wardo and Mark does not answer because he is not sure which question he is supposed to answer now and Wardo says, “It’s a simple question, Mark.” And he thinks  _maybe it is just a simple question_ and Wardo says “Are you sleeping with you know, men, then, can you just tell me that?” and Mark says “I’m not sure,” and Wardo throws his hands up and says “What the hell, either you do or you don’t. You either are or you aren’t,” and Mark thinks that Wardo, of all fucking people, should know it is never that simple.

He picks at his foot, exposing the shiny skin underneath and his brain says  _it’s really not that hard of a question_ and he takes a deep breath and says “I really want to kiss you” and Wardo says “Huh?” and Mark is still talking to his foot and then he is not talking to his foot, he is talking to Wardo and he says it again.

*  
He does not say  _please_ or  _can I _ or _is this okay_ he just says  _Wardo_ and that is all of it, that is everything he suddenly can see that he feels.

“What the _fuck_ , Mark, what the --” and then Wardo is not talking anymore because Mark is on him, suddenly struck by how perfect he is.

*  
 _Mark_ says Wardo, as he kisses all over his mouth, too eager to not bite his lips. He has stubble because it is late, and it feels scratchy under his fingertips and he does not understand what is happening. _Mark_ Wardo says, and it’s almost like a sigh, and something changes in his stomach something changes in his spine and it’s like he can see everything for what it is.

*   
He wants to be inside Eduardo. He wants to lie on top of him and watch his face while he fucks him.

*   
That is astonishing. It is like a revelation. It is like religion. 

*  
 _Wardo _ he says, grabbing up a fistful of t-shirt and then grabbing his friend, pulling him onto his lap and sticking his nose under his arm and the  _fucking smell of him_ and he is perfect, he is so perfect.

 _Mark _ Wardo sighs out and there are legs bumping and it is awkward and fumbly and he just wants Wardo  _closer closer closer._

He wants to fuck him, he realizes, is what he wants, when he feels his hard-on through his pants, his crotch pressing onto Mark’s own, his weight on Mark’s hips and his hands on Mark’s neck and he cannot stop to think that this is weird, that he is kissing Eduardo, or that he is even kissing anyone and he smells like bay leaves and cinnamon and he pulls him even closer and thinks  _mine mine mine mine._

 _Mark_ says Wardo, as he is touching his hair and Mark is sticking his nose under Wardo’s ear because he smells like sweat and popcorn and something else he can’t quite place and he wishes with all his heart that they were in Kirkland, in a hotel, anywhere, anywhere but here with his parents one room over and Christy just downstairs.

He is not even sure who this person is, this person who is grinding their crotches together and saying to Wardo’s ear  _I’m going to fuck you when we get back to Boston, Wardo, because then you’ll be sleeping with men, too,_ and Wardo laughs a laugh that sounds like a wheeze and says  _Mark Mark Mark Mark._

And then they are rolling over onto the bed Mark hasn’t really slept in regularly since just after his bar mitzvah, and he notices just now that it still has  Star Wars sheets and that detail strikes him as so utterly fucking silly but he lets it go and crawls on top of Wardo, who is limp and pliant and boneless, everywhere except in his pants, which he can feel, and it’s stupidly exciting to think about and he keeps kissing Wardo and pins one of his hands above his head and puts the other down his pants and his own pants are riding up around his calves, his shirt is riding up over his stupid pasty stomach and none of that matters, suddenly, none of it matters because he is  _touching Eduardo’s dick_ and the room is not too hot or too cold and it is perfect.

He wants to kiss Wardo’s neck forever.

*   
That thing is like a mile and half long.

*   
As suspected, it is not the only thing that is long.

*  
Mark laughs again, happy,  _so happy _ and Wardo’s eyes snap open and he breathes out  _what _ but it isn’t huffy. His eyes are dark and he looks so fuckable, so much so that he has to tell him, tracing down his arm, pushing up his shirt, sticking his nose under there again, in the crook of his arm because there is nothing there but  _Wardo Wardo Wardo _ and Wardo says  _Mark_ like he’s pissed and he says, _Shut the fuck up my parents will hear you _ and when he says that, just like that, his voice goes all level and authoritative and he didn't even mean for it to and he can feel Wardo’s cock  pulse in his hand and he needs to get him off _right fucking now_ so he leans in closer and says _can you come quietly Wardo? _ and Wardo is acting like he wants to push Mark off of him, but his hips are going  up up up of their own accord.

*   
He has never thought about this before.

*  
 _Come in my hand _ he says, _do it, do it now_ and suddenly he is the one watching, stroking off his best friend and trying to memorize every single detail of his face in the dim light and then Wardo is twitching he is shaking and he is saying nothing but Mark's name over and over.

*   
Mark does not even want to get off.

*   
He does not even care about getting off.

*   
He pulls his hand away and Wardo shivers and then he licks his palm, cautiously, at first. Then he does it again. And then he kisses Wardo, putting that hand on his chest, getting him dirty, rolling his nipple between sticky fingers until he whines.

*   
Mark resolves to make this noise happen as often as he possibly can.

*   
He wipes his hand on the sheets, like he did before, like he did with the popcorn, and then he leans over and turns out the light.

*   
They don't talk about it. Wardo falls asleep almost right away and Mark lies awake and looks at the ceiling and tries to figure out what all that was.

*   
Boston is going to be complicated. 

*

When he wakes up it is not quite morning and he is facing the wall, tangled in his arms, which are going two directions at once. One is underneath him and full of sand from where the circulation has been cut off from where he is laying on it, and the other is stretched across him all weird and touching Wardo’s shirt.

*   
So that happened.

*   
Oh.

*

Right.

*  
 _Fuck._  


*   
Mark wriggles his arm out from under him and then sits up and looks at Eduardo, who is sleeping with one hand resting on his chest like a fucking vampire and he is breathing through his mouth and his neck is stretched out and his hair is crazy and he is not sure but he thinks he would like to touch him, again.

He lays his head down perpendicular to Wardo’s neck and curls his legs up and the position is weird, because there is not enough bed and he wants to be closer to Wardo but he doesn’t want to wake him up.

*   
He really doesn’t like anyone touching him when he’s trying to sleep.

*   
It makes him feel like he’s suffocating.

*

But like this he can hear the tiny rumbles of Wardo’s snores through his mouth and he can feel the heat coming off his neck.

*

This is close enough.

*

And then it is really bright, then it is morning and Wardo flaps his hands like an octopus or something and he hits Mark in the arm and then Mark is also awake.  _Ow_ he says and Wardo says  _Sorry_ and then he scratches his arm and says  _Um_ and Wardo says  _Yeah_ and then he smiles and then Mark smiles back and then he says  _Did you sleep okay_ and Wardo says  _Totally._

*  
Wardo says "I should probably take a shower this morning,” and then Mark says, “No, don’t,” and Wardo says, “Why not?” and Mark goes in for his neck again which smells like pillow and sleep and  _Wardo_ and says  _Just don’t._

*  
Wardo is breathing hard and he says  _Mark _ and then he is kissing him again.

*   
It is messy and everyone’s breath stinks.

*   
It is not pretty.

*   
They have sleep in their eyes and fuzz on their tongues and Mark is lying as close to Wardo as he can without being on top of him and moving his hand up and down his whole front and side and sticking his nose everywhere he can.

*   
Wardo totally has a hard-on.

*   
He groans when Mark runs his hand over it.

*  
 _Fuck, Mark,_ he says and Mark says  _Do you always wake up like this _ and Wardo claps his hand over his face like he’s embarrassed and Mark wants to say  _don’t hide, why would you ever hide._

*  
He pulls Eduardo’s hand away and says _do you _ and Wardo licks the side of his mouth and nods and Mark trails his hand down there and makes his voice low and says  _Can I see_ and Wardo is nodding and he wishes he had more eyes so he could look everywhere at once.

*  
He has on sweats. These are also black and they have an elastic waistband and he wears boxer briefs which are also black and he wants to look but he is really enjoying the look on Wardo’s face when he pulls the elastic back, slowly, _slowly,_ and then  doesn’t touch him and Wardo says his name again and it’s so so lovely.

*   
Wardo is honest-to-goodness clinging to him.

*   
He sounds like he has just run up to the top of Memorial Hall, two steps at a time.

*  
 _Mark, _ he says,  _Mark._

*   
And then his sweats are pushed down and his cock is out and Mark wants to chew on him for pretty much always.

*  
He is doing the touching. _He_ is the one in charge.

*   
It feels surprisingly easy.

*   
It was never this easy with Erica.

*  
He traces his finger down the shaft and it  springs up and Wardo is still clinging to him.

*  
 _You should be quiet, Wardo,_ he says, against his ear, and Wardo nods even though he is kind of whimpering, very very quietly. Mark does not actually want him to be quiet. He wants to make him shout.

*  
 _You should definitely be quiet,_ he says, even as he is starting to bite him in places, on his chest and on his stomach and he smells  so fucking good and his cock smells even better and Wardo is obviously, trying very hard to not make noise.

He sticks his nose down where it is dark and hairy and everything stinks even more. It is pretty much the best thing ever.

*   
He kisses Wardo’s cock, starting at the bottom.

*   
Wardo is not very good at holding still.

*  
Mark is licking and flicking his tongue and Wardo _just_ _does not hold still._

*   
He keeps twitching, he keeps looking at Mark like he cannot believe any of this is real.

*   
Mark has to keep one hand on Wardo’s hip to keep him still. He is holding the base of his cock straight up with his other hand and he is licking.

*   
His eyes go so dark when Mark sucks on the head of his cock and he whines.

*   
Mark has to keep holding him down to keep from thrusting up like he clearly wants to.

*   
He is sort of immensely grateful right this instant for all that practice.

*   
He kind of wonders if he is better than Christy.

*   
He is sucking Wardo’s dick in his childhood bedroom and it is _fucking fantastic._

*   
He deep throats Wardo and from above he can hear this noise that sounds like strangulation so he decides he is definitely better than Christy.

*   
Wardo’s cock is brown and smooth and long and really nice.

*   
It’s pretty much the best thing ever, actually.

*  
Wardo is basically humping the air, when he pulls back because there is a knock on the door. His mother says  _boys?_ and Wardo says  _shit _ under his breath and Mark holds him down and eases himself off and says  _shut the fuck up_ and Wardo nods, obediently.

*  
He says  _we fell back asleep_ and his mouth is still right up close and breathing out against the head of Wardo’s cock and Wardo is basically still humping the air and he says _we’ll be down in a sec_ and then he licks the head of it again and Wardo gasps so he has to give him a stern look and Wardo bites down on the heel of his hand and Mark does it again, more slowly, while his mom (his mom!) is like, right outside the door and she says _okay, I just don’t want you to miss your train _ and Mark is speaking against Wardo's cock, pressing it against his lips and saying  _it's fine, we won't _ and then she says  _There’s going to be a line for the shower _ and then Mark is sitting up and jerking Wardo off and his dick is wet and hard and leaking everywhere and he looks like he wants to cry or shout and he says  _I don’t think either of us needs one, really_ and his mom says  _okay if you’re sure_ and Wardo’s  _face_ , as he is biting on his hand and scrunching his eyes up and Mark does not slow down one bit because he does not want to ever _ever_ stop and his mom says  _we’re having waffles _ and Mark says  _Great, Wardo loves waffles_ and Wardo’s eyes go wide wide wide and then he is coming all over his stomach and biting down on his hand and his mom is saying  _well, hurry up_ and then  _oh, I washed your clothes_ and Wardo is sweaty and he is gorgeous and Mark says  _Thank you_ and he is not sure which one of them he is saying it to. 

*  


He just says it the one time. That's more times than he ever says it to anyone, really.

*  
It's like  _please._ It is just extra syllables. They should know.

*  
He wants to keep saying it, but he doesn’t.  _We’ll be down in a sec_ , he says to his mom but he is looking down at Wardo who is breathing hard and has tiny tooth-shaped indentations all along his hand, and Mark thinks, weirdly, that this is better than any porn he’s ever seen.

*   
He wonders if Wardo watches porn.

*  
Or, like,  _gay porn._

*   
That’s really weird.

*   
It probably doesn’t merit thinking about.

*   
He really does not want Wardo to know about any of it, his stuff.

*  
Wardo is the one to break the silence and he says  _I don’t know what you’re talking about I definitely need a shower_ and Mark is absently running his hand all over Wardo’s stomach and saying  _you totally don’t_ and Wardo says  _you are so fucking disgusting_ and Mark bites his bare hip to hide his smile.

*  
 _Back in Boston,_ he says,  _in Boston._

*   
Tonight the dorms open back up and no one will really be back and they can go use the shower on the second floor of Kirkland, the one that no one ever uses.

*   
He could probably do with a shower, as well, actually.

*  
Wardo says  _you’re such an asshole_ and Mark says  _come on, waffles_ and Wardo says  _do you have, like a Kleenex or something_ and Mark finds him some and then they go downstairs, where it smells like vanilla and coffee and maple syrup.

*

Everyone else is barefoot, too. The house is really warm and there is is juice and he is going to be rich.

*

  
_He is going to be so fucking rich._   


*   
He needs to find a place in Palo Alto.

*   
He needs to bring Wardo with him.

*   
He should look for somewhere with a pool.

*   
Mark knows that they have a pool back in Miami, on like, his estate or castle or whatever it is.

*

It's probably not as warm as Miami but that is where the action is.

*

  
_Jesus H. Christ he is going to be rich._   


*   
His mom makes awesome fucking waffles.

*  
He still has on the sleep pants that have soccer balls and basketballs and things all over them and Christy is already dressed and she says  _you're such a dork_ and he does not give a fuck.

*   
He is going to be so rich and he can wear whatever fucking pants he wants.

*   
He won't put on a suit unless they make him.

*   
Sean was right though, they can't fucking _make him_ do anything.

*

He's sucked off plenty of people in his day. He's not going to wipe his chin and walk away any more.

*

  
_God, Sean is so fucking right about everything._   


*   
Fuck suits.

*   
Why would you put on a suit if you didn't have to? If you could make a billion fucking dollars just sitting in your underwear with your hand down your pants and a beer in your hand why would you get up and commute into the city just so your kids could go to private school that they hate and you resent and why would you do that?

*   
Whatever.

*   
Wardo is here and he is smiling and he is so very nice.

*   
He's not wearing his suit he has on his jeans and a fleece and he is not wearing a suit and his hair is still all messy.

*   
It is awesome.

*   
His father is not there.

*   
That probably helps.

*   
Too bad Christy is there.

*   
He wants to eat waffles and then go back up to bed and kind of just have this be his life.

*   
His mom and sisters can stay. That would be okay.

*   
He eats like six waffles and then feels tired from the carbs and wants to lie down but they have to go to Yonkers to catch the train.

*  
His mom drives them there in the wagon and she gives them all a Ziploc bag of cookies to take with them and says  _Thank you so much for visiting, Eduardo _ and he says  _It was my pleasure, Mrs. Zuckerberg, thank you for having us._

He is holding his backpack and his cookies and his mom says something to Christy and she says something back and then she is talking to Wardo again and she says  _I know you'll look out for him _ and he wants to blush but actually he is glad that they both care so much.

Wardo says  _I'll try my best, Mrs. Zuckerberg_ and then she gives both him and Christy hugs and then she tries to hug Mark from the side, which is the only way he will ever let her, really, but he squirms out away from it and she says  _Don't work too hard, honey_ and then  _I love you_ and he nods because Wardo is there and Christy is there and even though he is wearing his jeans rather than those stupid sleep pants he still feels like a moron or a baby.

*

The train ride is pretty uneventful. They sit in seats that face one another and Christy has the window and Wardo has the aisle because  _his legs are so long, sweetie_ like his mom said and the ride is boring but he keeps smiling with half his mouth and feeling like he fucking  _owns _ it.

*

  
_God, he is going to be rich._   


*  
Christy is chatty and she wants to talk and she keeps poking at Wardo and looking at him with moon eyes and glaring at Mark and saying  _so what’s the plan? _ and  _are you going to go to California_ and  _if you go to California I will be so sad without you_ and Eduardo looks at the empty seat across from him and says  _we can talk about all that later, okay?_

Christy folds her arms and stares out the window and seems pissed.

*   
She gets him _all the time._ There's no reason for her to be pissed.

*   
Wardo gets out some giant Ec textbook and Christy gets out a book by Durkheim but then she stops reading that after she keeps sighing and twisting her hair and instead she gets out a magazine and then puts her headphones in and the train is swaying.

*   
Mark has his laptop and a spare battery but the writing is not coming.

*   
That is weird.

*   
He probably just had too many carbs.

*   
That's probably it.

*   
It is a long trip. Christy falls asleep against the window.

*   
Mark stares at Christy and then at the lines of code that took too long to write and shuts his computer.

*   
Wardo is still staring very hard at his textbook, even when Mark moves to the seat opposite him and slouches down in it, casual.

*   
Wardo does not look up but he tightens his grip on the edges of the book.

*   
Mark is very good at slumping.

*   
Mark checks to make sure Christy is still asleep.

Their train car is pretty much empty, because it is midday and no one is traveling long-haul.

*   
He wriggles his foot out of the flip-flop and rubs his toes against Wardo’s ankle.

*   
Wardo grabs the book even tighter when Mark puts his foot in his crotch.

*   
He probably looks crazy from smiling so much.

*   
Wardo jumps back a little like he’s been punched but he doesn’t do anything besides shift his book to cover Mark’s bare foot, which he is now moving around.

*  
He hisses breath out at then mouths at Mark  _you asshole._

*

Mark gets out his phone and sends a text.

*

  
_I think you should meet me in the bathroom._   


*   
Wardo digs his phone out of his pocket. The movement presses him against Mark’s foot even more and he looks angry but not really angry.

*   
He reads the text and then just stares back with an open mouth.

*   
_  
I’m serious   
_

*   
**  
You’re crazy   
**

*   
_  
This shit is boring   
_

*   
**  
Christy is right here   
**

*   
_  
She’s asleep   
_

*   
**  
True   
**

_  
*   
She’s asleep and you’ve got a boner the size of Florida down there   
_

*   
**  
Is that supposed to be sexy?   
**

*   
_  
I’m just stating a fact   
_

*   
**  
A sexy fact?   
**

*   
_  
Go in the bathroom   
_

*   
**  
Is that an order?   
**

*   
_  
Do you want it to be?   
_

*   
Wardo stares at him again and it’s like the sun through the clouds. His eyes look all dark and Mark wants to make him come, again.

*   
It’s been like seven hours. That is way too long.

*   
_  
Go in the bathroom. Take your phone with you.   
_

*   
Wardo gets up and shuffles down the narrow corridor. It takes a lot of willpower not to grab onto him as he walks past.

*   
Eduardo has still not taken a shower which is like the best thing ever. He got him off twice but he hasn't showered yet.

*   
That makes him have to swallow very hard because _what even is that._

*   
He shoves his laptop in the backpack and stashes it under the seat, and then puts a coat over it, just to be sure. He sits for a minute and scrolls back through the texts. There is one from late last night that he must not have seen.

*   
_  
Awesome to talk the other night. I’ll be in touch. SP   
_

*   
And then another text, a new one this time.

*   
**  
Dude, are you coming   
**

*   
_  
No, not yet. You will, soon enough   
_

*   
**  
I had no idea you were such a pervert   
**

*   
_  
Stop giving me shit and get your dick out for me   
_

*   
**  
Um   
**

*   
_  
Do it   
_

*   
**  
Okay. Hang on   
**

*   
_  
You should touch it   
_

*   
**  
Thought you were coming back here?   
**

*   
_  
Are you touching it?   
_

*   
**  
Yeah   
**

*   
_  
Does it feel as good as this morning did?   
_

*   
**  
No, that was amazing   
**

*   
_  
Are you hard, Wardo?   
_

*   
**  
Fuck yes   
**

*   
_  
Do you want to get off again?   
_

*   
**  
Y   
**

*   
_  
Do you want my mouth this time?   
_

*   
**  
!!!   
**

*   
_  
Is that a yes   
_

*   
**  
Yes   
**

*   
_  
I’ll be right there. I’ll knock three times    
_

He doesn’t leave immediately, though. His mind goes all flickery when he thinks of Wardo touching himself in the tiny cramped bathroom, sandwiched between the tiny toilet and the tiny sink, stroking himself off because  Mark _fucking told him to._

*   
He cannot wait to get back to Boston. He totally has the room to himself until Sunday.

*   
Eduardo Saverin is jerking off in a bathroom on the Northeast Regional because _he_ told him to.

*   
That is insane.

*   
It blows his fucking mind.

*

He feels so amazing, right now. Christy is, like, right there, and they are on a train hurtling back to the East Coast and Wardo still has not taken a shower.

 _  
*   
_

_  
Although.   
_

*   
Mark sends another text, hurriedly, with his thumbs.

*   
He is very good at texting. He is also very good at typing.

*   
Those are his tools.

*   
He appears to be good at this other thing, too, which was unexpected.

*   
Although, to be fair, it’s not like he didn’t fucking practice.

*

Who was he practicing for, actually?

*

  
_Huh._   


*   
Well, that’s weird.

*   
Whatever.

*

Money.   
__

*

  
_A fucking billion dollars._   


*   
He's not thinking about final club stuff, which will go down, soon.

*   
Maybe Wardo won't make it.

*

They can go to California and lie by the pool in their underwear and be beyond rich.

*

  
_I'm going to be so fucking rich, I'm never wearing pants again, you pricks._   


*   
His thumbs fly and the flat of Rhode Island slips by and he writes the text he should have sent hours ago.

*   
No one has to wear a suit. _No one._

*   
_  
Great to meet you. I’m heading back to campus now. Drop me a line next week and we’ll chat. MZ   
_

*   
He shoves the phone in his pocket and goes to find Eduardo in one of the two bathrooms.

*   
It is not an exaggeration to say that he feels ten fucking feet tall.

*   
Christy is sleeping and the train is moving forward back to Massachusetts and California is calling.

*   
Wardo is in the second bathroom, at the end of the hall.

*  
He knocks just like he said he would and Wardo says  _hello_ kind of cautiously and he says  _Wardo it’s me_ and the latch clicks open.

*   
It is a tiny tiny room.

*   
It smells like ammonia and hot metal, burning up off the tracks and seeping in through the creases of the window.

*   
Wardo is pressing himself against the wall behind where the door swings in so as not to be seen from anyone passing by.

*   
Mark knows exactly how to fit in these tiny spaces.

*   
Wardo’s jeans are unzipped but nothing more.

*   
He shuts the door.

*  
“What the fuck,” he says and Wardo says “Mark,” and his voice is already breaking and he wriggles a knee between his legs and pins him to the tiny sink basin and says _I thought I told you to get your cock out for me, Wardo _ and his face is like pain and laughter at the same damn time and he says  _fuck _ because Mark is saying _tsk, really_ and Wardo is wheezy and gripping the sides of the sink and his knuckles are practically white he is gripping so hard.

*  
 _You’re going to have to pay more attention, Wardo,_ he says, and shoves his hand down Wardo’s pants.

*   
His own dick is really hard.

*   
He hasn’t come once, actually. Since, like, Wednesday? And it's now Friday.

*   
He wonders if Wardo gives good head.

*   
He hopes he hasn't had any fucking practice.

*  
God, what if the Phoenix initiations are _like_ _that?_

*   
God, what if he's blown all of them?

*

Mark actually growls a little bit because he is _so angry_ , suddenly.

*

  
_Mine._   


*   
He should ask him about it, maybe.

*   
Although club stuff is supposed to be secret.

*   
It's like, hazing, or something.

*

  
_Jesus, what if he isn't a virgin?_   


*   
Oh my God.

*   
He is still touching him, almost pinching the tip of his cock which is all slippery and Wardo is groaning like it probably hurts and maybe it does but he seems, really, to like it.

*   
His own dick is like steel, really.

*   
He has an amazing idea.

*  
They are not really kissing. His mouth is sort of on Wardo’s and sort of breathing in his breath and sort of on his neck, his retardedly long neck, and he says  _You stink so fucking bad_ and Wardo shivers because Mark is touching him and then he grabs his hand and says  l _ook what you did to me, Wardo_ and presses it against his own crotch and Wardo says  _Um._

 _Seriously, Wardo,_ he says, undoing his own pants and then bringing Wardo’s hand back there and hearing him gasp and then saying  _I cannot wait to get you back to Boston _ and then he has Wardo’s cock pressed up against his own and a hand wrapped around both of of them and Wardo says  _Holy shit, holy shit _ and he is still grabbing on to the sink.

 _I’ve got the room to myself_ he is saying and Jesus, who is this person, this sure-spoken person who is saying everything that he wants out loud to another person in a bathroom moving at eighty miles an hour?  _Who even is that?_

 _Shit, Mark, _ Wardo says, and he is like, biting on his fist and making this sound that is wheezy and coughy and high-pitched and he is rocking forward up against Wardo in perfect time, pretty much, with the motion of the train and Wardo is saying  _Shit, shit, what is that? What is this? _ because he is touching on top of Mark’s hand, feeling them both pressed together and, well, there is-- you know.  _That._

*   
He doesn't like to brag.

*  
But probably Wardo does not mean  _that,_ although if he is a virgin he’s probably freaked out.

*   
Probably he doesn't mean Mark's dick.

*   
He remembers being freaked out.

*  
Probably he doesn't mean  this like, _this_ right here in this bathroom on a commuter train.

*  
He probably means  _this_ and Mark does not want to answer that.

*   
Whatever.

*   
He’ll make it all fine.

*   
He'll make everything fine.

*  
 _I think I’ll probably have to suck your dick again, first_ he says, as their fingers are intermingling and everything is getting sweatier.  _Because then you’d be relaxed, right? _ and Wardo is kind of nodding and still making that weird-ass noise and letting them rub up against one another like horny teenagers or something and he is saying  _Holy shit, holy shit _ and then sounding like a cat trying to cough up a hairball.

*   
Which is like, hilarious.

*   
It is nothing like porn and it is fucking hilarious.

*   
That ridiculous noise makes him super happy.

*  
 _So I’ll suck you dry and then what? _ he asks, although Wardo is really not looking capable of giving a coherent answer so he keeps going and says  _And then maybe I’ll spread you out on the floor, or the couch, or maybe my bed. Maybe your bed. _ and Wardo is gasping and chewing on his knuckles and saying  _Oh, shit, shit _ and Mark says  _And then I will totally fuck you, Eduardo Saverin._

*   
Wardo is shaking.

*  
His fingertips are touching Mark’s and his dick is slick next to Mark’s and he is saying  _shit._

*   
It is not just the motion of the train.

*   
It is a tiny cocoon of window cleaner and yellow walls and Wardo’s body so close it could be his own.

*  
 _I will fuck you until you get hard again and come again, is what I will do_ he is saying and Wardo is biting his hand and saying _Mark, I'm --_

*  
He lifts his hand away and says _I thought you wanted my mouth_ and Wardo is just staring at him like he wants to cry or something and he says  _what the fuck?_ and Mark says  _hold up your shirt._

*   
Wardo looks at him like he is crazy, kind of, but he listens. He pulls his shirt up and is holding himself up with the other hand and is seriously, shaking.

*   
Mark is not shaking. The train pitches him back and forth ever so slightly, but he is so not shaking.

*   
Mark is touching himself and Wardo is watching and holding up his shirt and Mark has to reach over touch his stomach, which is the tiniest bit hairy and on all the hairs are tiny dry flakes that look like dead skin or dandruff and Wardo is still gasping.

*  
 _Fuck_ Mark says, rocking into the grip of his own hand and twisting and pulling. He flicks his wrist on the upstroke and Wardo is watching and he looks glazed, he looks amazing.

*   
Wardo is watching and it is all amazing.

*  
He looks even more amazing when Mark says  _Fuck _ again, and comes all over his stomach and his hard cock.

*  
 _Fuck.  
_

*   
It is _amazing_ and Wardo is staring and shaking and his hands are so white.

*   
Two days without getting off means that there is a lot.

*  
Like,  _a lot._

*   
Wardo is all messy.

*   
He looks amazing.

*   
Everything is dripping with sweat and spunk and Wardo stinks like sweat and spunk and he looks amazing and Mark is dying to make him come again.

*  
 _Stay like that_ he says, and Wardo nods, dumbly.

*   
The floor is some kind of pressed metal and it is cold through his jeans and Wardo's cock is in his fucking face and so perfect.

*   
He cannot even wait to taste him.

*   
He does not even try to tease, because he knows Wardo is close.

*   
His dick is twitching under Mark's tongue and it is so smooth.

*   
There is seriously come everywhere.

*   
He made Wardo really fucking messy.

*   
He is happy to get messy, too.

*  
He licks and leans and says  _you taste fucking amazing, Wardo _ and then he is on him before he can say a word otherwise, leaning into him and letting his forehead rest on Wardo's stomach, which is sweaty and sticky and damp.

*   
So now he is also sticky and sweaty and damp.

*   
Even with the motion of the train this is all so easy.

*   
The motion of the train actually helps.

*  
Wardo is rocking because the train is rocking and his cock is dragging back and forth in Mark's mouth and then teasing the entrance to his throat and all he has to do is find the right angle, all he has to do is lean in and Wardo is saying  _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ and if he could move his face, he would totally smile.

*   
Wardo's cock is so hot, in his throat. It is like swallowing fire, he imagines.

*   
_Holy shit _   
Wardo is saying, trying to keep his hips still and trying to keep his shirt up, too.

*   
There is totally come dripping onto his face.

*   
Which is his own.

*   
Which he has splattered all over Wardo.

*   
He has to ball his hands up when he thinks about _anyone else doing anything like that_ , and he turns back to his task with a renewed ferocity and Wardo is mumbling and making that cat noise again.

*   
There is totally come on his face.

*

It all feels incredible.

*

 _Holy shit_ Wardo says, as Mark grabs his hips and pulls him forward so his nose is buried in hair and he swallows and pulls him forward even harder and Wardo is saying _Holy shit, Mark. Oh, shit._

*   
He bucks when he comes and Mark can barely taste his spunk because his cock is in so deep.

*   
It is pretty incredible. 

*

He lets Wardo leave first, after he has cleaned himself off with a wad of toilet paper, grumbling about the lack of paper towels.

*   
He pees and washes his hands and then checks his phone, again, to see if Sean has texted him back, yet.

*   
He has not.

*   
Mark goes back to his original seat and tries to write. Christy wakes up for twenty seconds and snuggles up against Eduardo’s arm before falling back asleep. He glares at her and does not care if Eduardo can see.

*

The code does not come.

*

  
_The code does not come._   


*  
The dorms don’t open until six so they go out for dinner, early. Eduardo wants _arroz con pollo_ and they go to the Border Cafe to eat. They take a taxi, like they do. They are early enough that they can stash their luggage on part of the giant round booth for six that the waitress gives them. The restaurant is quiet but getting louder as it becomes actual dinner time.

*  
Christy is chatty and Wardo says  _I’m starving_ and proceeds to order like half the menu and Christy laughs and Mark hates the smell of refried beans that clings to everything.

*   
The text comes when they are leaving.

*

He is not paying attention even though Christy and Wardo are, like, talking or arguing or something.

 _*_

 _How many schools did you say?_

*  
 _29_

* _  
Shit is about to blow up. I’ll ping you Monday.  
_

*  
He is staring at his phone and Wardo is saying  _Mark, Mark, I need to walk Christy home, okay? _ and he is nodding but not really paying attention and Christy says  _Bye, Mark_ and suddenly he realizes that they have both left and he is standing there stupidly, holding his phone in one hand and his bags in the other.

*   
Sean Parker is going to make shit happen.

*

He, Mark Zuckerberg, is going to make shit happen.

 _*_

 _A billion dollars._

*   
Wait, what?

*

Where did Wardo just go?

*

  
_Oh, fuck that._   


*   
“Hey,” he shouts, shoving his phone in his pocket and shuffling after them down the hill, “hey!”

*  
When he catches up his is winded and he says  _Wardo and I have some facebook stuff to talk about, Christy _ trying to keep his voice steady and Christy says  _Can’t you talk about it tomorrow or whatever_ and Mark looks at Wardo who is looking at Christy who is looking at him and he says  _No._

*  
 _But we’ll walk you back to your apartment first, of course _ Wardo says, turning to Mark to say this and Mark knows he is meant to agree, not argue.  _Absolutely,_ he says.  _Have to be careful,_ Wardo says, looking at him with a stupidly sincere face.

*  
 _Right, _ he nods,  _right._

*   
Is that an innuendo? Or, like, a double entendre?

*   
Is Wardo trying to tell him something?

*   
Is it something about sex?

*   
Is it something about Christy?

*   
He'll have to ask him about this later.

*   
He never gets the subtext.

*   
Christy lives off Brattle Street and they walk her to the door and then Christy is going up on to her tiptoes to kiss Wardo when they are right by the door and he knows he should not look but for some strange reason he is watching.

*  
Wardo is trying to get away from her, kind of and says  _babe, Mark's right there_ and she says  _I don't care._

*   
She is like, all over him.

*   
It's obscene, practically.

*   
Like, a rap video or something.

*   
What the hell.

*   
He should walk away or look away.

*   
He does both but he keeps looking back, turning his head rapidly and then jerking it back.

*   
He decides that Christy is a tramp.

*   
She shows too much boob all the time.

*   
She's definitely not good enough for Wardo.

*   
Girls should not act like that. 


	6. Kirkland

They don’t talk on the walk back to Kirkland, even though, probably, they should.

*  
Most of the snow has melted and campus looks forlorn with so few people on it.

*  
It’s so beautiful like this.

*  
You’re supposed to talk with people after you’ve had sex with them.

*  
That is how this thing works when you have sex with girls, so it’s probably basically the same deal. He should have checked what the internet had to say about all this. There are probably forums, or chat rooms, or somewhere on Ask.com with the answers to this sort of stuff.

*  
Of course, he and Wardo haven’t really had sex yet, not technically.

*  
That other stuff does not really count.

*  
No matter what the websites say.

*  
Wardo uses his ID to let them in and they walk up the steps and it feels really nice to be back.

*  
It’s pretty empty. A few people are around and they say hi.

*  
He turns off to head to his room and Wardo keeps on going up the stairs and he says  _Whoa, whoa, what_ and Wardo says _Dude, I need to put my stuff away _ and he says  _The guys aren’t back till Sunday just leave it in my room _ and then Wardo says  _I need to get my shower stuff from upstairs_ and he thinks _no, not yet_ and says  _you can use mine _ even though he has like a dried-out nub of Irish Spring left and probably no shampoo and Wardo says  _But-- _ and he says  _Seriously, come on_ and grabs him by the sleeve and Wardo comes with him to his room where no one else is.

*  
The room is cold because the heat hasn’t been on that long. Even at Harvard they have to keep heating costs down.

*  
Or, like, for the environment. People care about the environment.

*  
The room is cold and Wardo is there and he flicks the lights on and they put their stuff down and it all feels really good and right.

*  
He makes double and triple sure that the door is locked.

*  
Which it is.

*  
And then he has Wardo against the door and is kissing him, even though he is not really one for kissing, but Christy was kissing him a lot and he needs to kiss him even more than Christy did.

*  
Probably he should say something.

*  
That’s probably what the internet would say.

*  
Something like  _Stop kissing Christy okay _ or _I think you should break up with her okay _ and _Please come to California with me._

*  
He does not say any of those things.

*  
He should say  _Don't have a girlfriend any more now, all right?_ and  _Just stay here for like forever _ and he does not.

*  
Instead he slams Wardo against the door, pretty hard actually and says  _Wardo_ and then goes up his toes to kiss him and suck his lower lip between his teeth and bite it.

*  
He really has a nice mouth.

*  
Not like he has kissed a ton of people.

*  
He does not want to think about how many people Wardo has kissed.

*  
That makes him feel sick.

*  
Wardo is grabbing at his shoulders and saying his name and Mark does not ever want to leave this room.

*  
He is pinned against the wall and he is hard and Mark is hard and he is all over his face and his neck and his ears and he is saying Wardo's name.

*  
Probably they should be talking.

*  
Saying things like  _Are you clean_ and  _what will it mean if we have sex_ and  _have you ever because I haven't, not like this, at least._

*  
Fuck, he's never done this before.

*  
Like, this way.

*  
Not like he hasn't been asked.

*  
Because, you know.

*

  
 _Are you sure you only bottom?_  


 

*  
He should say  _I've got condoms_ and  _I'll go slow, okay_ and _I think you're amazing_ but he does not say any of those things.

*  
He smells so fucking good, he tastes like rice and margarita salt and he is so incredibly wonderful. 

*  
There is not any time to talk when Wardo is pressed up against him like this.

*  
Because getting him naked is pretty much the most important thing in the world.

*  
Of ever, really.

*  
More than the Israeli peace process, or the release date for Episode III and more even than  _a billion dollars_ Wardo needs to be naked and underneath of him and making that cat noise again.

*  
He feels so good. Everything about him makes him feel warm.

*  
 _You don’t need a shower yet, Wardo_ he says and Wardo says  _Dude I’m all itchy _ and Mark says  _That’s just because you have all those stupid clothes on, still _ as he tugs on his collar and Wardo laughs a laugh as wide as the Amazon and says  _Your attempts at dirty talk are fundamentally flawed _ and Mark says  _You don’t seem to object _ and he is smiling back, he can feel himself smiling back and then looking right at Wardo and saying  _Later, okay?_ and Wardo says  _You just tell me_ and that is exactly the thing he wants to hear.

*  
He kisses him as he steers him toward the couch and then they both sort of fall over the arm of it and they are both happy, from the looks of it.

*  
Everything is awkward and fumbly and Wardo is like, shaking.

*  
And the he is taking off Wardo’s clothes and Wardo is taking off his clothes and he seriously, weirdly, so strangely, cannot stop kissing Wardo’s mouth.

*  
What the hell is that about?

*  
He's not going to worry about it. It's really nice.

*  
And then they are both shirtless and their jeans are open and their hands are down each other's pants and that, right there,  is the single most insane thing that has ever happened.

*  
In his whole fucking life.

*  
 _  
Holy shit.  
_

*  
Because Eduardo-- Wardo, _Wardo is_ _touching his dick_ and kissing him back and saying his fucking name and it is all crazy.

*  
They do this for a long time.

*  
Until he seriously cannot take it any more.

*  
 _Wardo _ he says, right up against his mouth  _do you--_

*  
He doesn't even really get to finish the sentence.

*  
Because Wardo lies down on the couch and takes his fucking pants off in one smooth gesture and puts his hands over his head and like, kind of grabs on to the arm and says in probably the deepest voice that his voice has ever sounded  _I want you to _ he says, nodding.

*  
His eyes are so dark.

*  
He is naked and right there and he looks like one of those paintings or sculptures or something from first semester Art History.

*

 _Are you sure?_ he says, because of so many reasons, all of the reasons.

*

Like

 _you're my best friend aren't there rules about this_

and

 _I know we did that other stuff but you still have a girlfriend, even if she is a tramp_

and

 _have you done this before_

and

 _I got a full blood panel from the Health Center three weeks ago, everything is fine_

and __

_I never want you to leave this room_

and

 _I'm scared I'm going to hurt you._

*  
He is opening his mouth and thinking he needs to say at least one of these things out loud, because, he really really should.

*  
He probably should have said something sooner, actually.

*  
Because he is finding it very hard to think straight.

*  
Or, like, think _at all._

*  
Because Wardo (Wardo!) is lying on the couch in the common room with no fucking clothes on and his mouth parted and his hand on his dick and says  _Mark, come on_ and how is he supposed to think, really, when there is  _that_ two feet away? 

*  
 _Are you sure _ he asks and Wardo is stroking himself and his dick is perfect but maybe not as perfect as the face he is making which is like sort of pissed off and sort of giddy and he says  _Yes, I want you to._

*  
He is so excited, he, like, bounds up off the couch.

*  
 _Where are you going?_ Wardo says, and he sounds almost angry.

*

 _I have to get stuff,_ he says, tripping in his haste to get to his backpack, where there is _stuff._  


*  
 _Oh,_ says Wardo, _right_ and then he is quiet again.

*  
He plops down with his backpack and starts throwing things everywhere because his mom (oh shit, his  mom) moved a bunch of things around and he can find lube and Wardo is saying  _dude, just come on_ and he turns his head and says  _without--? _ and Wardo says  _I just want to feel you, please_ and he is about to faint because  what the hell and he says  _I mean if you're sure_ and Wardo's mouth goes all line-y like when he talks to his father and he says  _If you do not come over here and fuck me in the next minute and a half I am cutting off all your funds for future server space_ and he says  _Like fucking hell you would_ and throws the backpack on the ground.

*  
The lube is weird synthetic stuff. It works better with condoms, really.

*  
But then Wardo has a leg up over the back of the couch and his eyes are sliding closed and he is saying  _shit, Mark, shit _ and throwing his head back and his neck is just the most lovely thing in the whole solar system and he almost just wants to finger him until he comes, because that would also be really pretty awesome.

*

 _Hurry the fuck up_ he says, and Mark cannot believe he is being this impatient.  


*  
 _What is your rush,_ Wardo? he says. He has two fingers in him now and he crooks them and Wardo like, bucks up off the couch and says  _shit _ again and then he wheezes and Mark has to laugh.

* _  
Fuck you, asshole_ Wardo mumbles. His cock is twitching and his lips are all wet and there is dry white stuff all over his stomach and he smells perfect and his ass is perfect and his stomach is perfect and his hair is utterly ridiculous, all over the place.

*  
 _Language, Wardo _ he says, and then stops himself before he stupidly blurts out  _what would your father say_ because that would pretty much kill the mood.

*  
Instead he pulls out his fingers. Wardo whimpers when he does this and his legs fall apart more.

*  
He looks like the most fuckable thing on the planet with his legs open like that.

*  
Mark gets the lube out again and pours it all over everything, like it's shampoo or mustard or something.

*  
 _You're going to ruin this couch _ Wardo says, even as Mark is slicking them both up, even as he is fingering Wardo and making him squirm again.  _It's already ruined_ he says back.

*  
Pizza stains and beer stains.

*  
And everyone whacks off on it, too.

*  
Dustin totally looks for pictures of Natalie Portman online.

*  
He does not want to think about Natalie Portman right now.

*  
Or about Dustin, for that matter.

*  
He climbs back on top of Wardo and goes back to kissing him and he is this beautiful, pliant, weird thing underneath him with limbs that are everywhere, like a spider monkey or something.

*

 _Okay?_ he asks, as he slides back and lines up.  


*  
Wardo nods.

*  
He goes so slowly.

*  
Wardo is clutching his arms with his eyes closed and he does not want to hurt him, not one bit.

*  
Wardo does not make a lot of noise while they do this.

*  
He looks like he is in agony.

*  
Mark is totally watching to make sure he is not hurting him.

*  
He stops moving and says  _It's okay, I'll be gentle _ and Wardo says  _I know, I know_ and then he says  _More, seriously_ and he says  _are you sure _ and Wardo's fingers are on his neck and he is fucking his best friend on the couch in the common room.

*  
It takes a long time to get there.

*  
Wardo is _almost definitely_ a virgin.

*  
This thought pleases him immensely. 

*  
It takes a long time and then he is on top of Wardo on the couch and there are hands on his back and then on his ass and Wardo is talking up close and hot against his mouth and his face looks like it is in pain but he is saying  _Mark Mark Mark_ and he says  _Are you all right _ and Wardo says  _I'm fine, really, fine_ and he says  _If you're sure_ and then he moves his hips and Wardo makes an altogether different sort of noise.

*  
It's like he's choking while he laughs.

*  
It is incredible.

*  
Plus, he is like, _inside Eduardo._

*  
It is him being inside of Eduardo that is making him make that noise.

*  
That is _insane._

*  
Like a townie would say, it is  wicked awesome.

*  
Wardo is moaning and digging his nails into Mark's back and his butt and is saying  _I think-- _ and it really hasn't even been but, like, five fucking minutes, but why would he wait, how could he wait and he says  _Wardo_ and it's a question, because even though it is not a question it is a question and Wardo slides a hand up to his neck and brings Mark's head down so their foreheads are pressed together and both of them are so sweaty that he is probably dripping sweat onto Wardo's face and getting it in his eyes and Wardo is grabbing him and says  _Please come inside of me, Mark_ and it's like a punch right to the solar plexus and he says _Jesus, Wardo_ because,  what the fucking _hell_ and Wardo says it  again and he really cannot hold back.

*  
There are scratches all over his back from when Wardo comes.

*  
He makes sure Wardo has come before he does.

*  
It is only polite.

*  
But, really, he wants to watch.

*  
It is even better than all the other times.

*  
Wardo is  _loud._

*  
Like he could not be back in New York or on the train.

*  
He is really loud.

*  
It is fantastic.

*  
 _Mark,_ says Wardo, digging his nails in hard and holding on tight.

*  
It is incredible.

*  
His own orgasm is nicer than any he has ever had.

*  
But really, his own orgasm is pretty much beside the point.

*  
They lie there for a long time and there is more sweaty kissing.

*  
He does not pull out until it is inevitable, and he goes as slowly as he can. Eduardo still winces, and he feels really bad about that.

*

Are you all right? he asks, because he does not want Wardo to be like, broken, or hurt or anything.  


*

Wardo says  _Yeah _ and then sniffs the air disdainfully and then sniffs at his armpit and says  _I really need a fucking shower though._

*  
Mark sits up and smiles. They both do, really.

*

 _Plus I'm starving,_ Wardo says, and then they both laugh. _There’s cookies,_ he says, digging through his backpack. He grabs two when he finds the Ziploc and then hands it to Wardo, who sniffs in the bag.  _What kind are these_ he asks and Mark eats his and says  _peanut butter_ and Wardo makes a face.

*  
Peanut butter is his favorite.

*  
That was really nice of his mom.

*  
He hopes she does not ever say anything about the stuff that was also in his bag, because he does not want to talk to her about it.

*  
Wardo scowls and says  _I hate peanut butter_ and Mark thinks  _do they have peanut butter in Brazil, even_ and then says  _well hang on, I’ll fix you something or -- something_ and he is springing up off the couch, still with no clothes on, looking for food.

*  
 _You? _ Wardo says, smugly, leaning back on the couch and putting a hand behind his head. Mark wants to wipe that damn smile off his face and he says  _yeah, hang on_ and rummages around until he finds some Cup O’Noodles in a drawer.

*  
 _Wait here _ he says, holding up a finger and then pulling on whatever has spilled out of his backpack onto the floor  _just wait. Don’t, like, go anywhere, okay_ and Wardo still has a smug smile playing across his lips and is kind of scratching at his ear and he looks so cute and spent and done for that Mark wants to take a picture, or have sex with him again, or something.

*  
He is smiling up at Mark and he says _what_ and Wardo says  _those pants _ and Mark says  _Don’t leave_ and Wardo sinks back down into the couch and closes his eyes and says  _I’m not going anywhere._

*  
He does not want Wardo to so much as set foot outside the door.

*  
Like, he wants to lock him in the room and keep him there.

*  
Which is kind of fucked up.

*  
He makes water in the microwave and bangs on the door with his knee when he comes back and Wardo has put on a different t-shirt which looks familiar because it says _Yardsley_ across the front and he says _is that mine _ and Wardo says  _I grabbed it off the floor_ and then he shuts the door behind them.

*  
Wardo is wearing his t-shirt.

*  
And they have just had sex.

*  
 _Oh fucking shit._

*  
And then they are sitting on the couch and Mark starts eating his noodles right away, with a plastic fork and Wardo is just staring at him like he wants to laugh and he says  _what_ and Wardo points with his own fork and says  _they’re better if you wait until they aren’t, you know, crunchy _ and then puts his own cup down on the table and puts a book on top of it and then stares at it.

*  
He stops eating and then does the same thing.

*  
 _Are you sure you don’t like peanut butter_ he asks.

*

 _I don't really,_ Wardo answers, __and Mark files this away under the directory of “Eduardo Saverin” that is, now that he thinks about it, very very full of subfolders.

*  
How totally _weird._

*  
They eat noodles and then there is beer and then they watch tv and that is all like normal except Wardo is wearing Mark’s t-shirt and they have just had sex.

*  
They don’t say anything about it.  _Ice Road Truckers_ is on and they watch that, instead.

*  
Wardo keeps whining about wanting a shower.

*  
He does not get his way until they have ordered and consumed a pizza, a two-liter, and an order of cheesesticks.

*  
After which they do it again.

*  
Twice.

*  


The first time Wardo is on his hands and knees, on the floor. He took the blanket off his bed and put it down on the ground. The bed is really too tiny for this sort of thing.

*  
Wardo still has on Mark’s t-shirt, the back of which he balls up in his hand, clutching at the fabric between Wardo’s shoulder blades.

*  
He knows from experience that this position is easier, feels better.

*  
He cannot see Wardo’s face, though, so he does not really like it all that much.

*  
They eat the rest of the pizza. Mark leaves all his crusts behind and Wardo pushes them all into one corner of the box and then puts the greasy napkins inside, on the other side.

*  
The second time Wardo is on his back and he whimpers. Hardly anything comes out when he does.

*  
He is pretty much dry.

*  
That time lasts the longest of all.

*  
They lie on the floor and Wardo chews on the cold pizza crusts and then they fall asleep for a little while.

*  
He does not check his phone.

*  
He does not check his email.

*  
He does not write one line of code.

*  
He wakes sometime late because there is movement next to him and Wardo says, scratchy with sleep and shouting  _Dude, I’m just gonna go to the bathroom okay? _ and he reaches his hand up but Wardo is already leaving, has already gotten up.

*  
He does not come back for a long time.

*  
Mark starts to worry, and then he misses him, and then he drifts off to sleep again.

*  
Wardo comes back, at some point, smelling of soap and toothpaste.

*  
He is warm and his hair is damp and Mark does not have the energy to say anything.

*  
Mark wakes up first on Saturday and goes to the d-hall and brings back all of the food.

*  
They don’t do much besides eat and fuck and watch tv all of Saturday.

*  
They don’t talk about it.

*  
Mark goes for a beer run and brings back cans of things, from the CVS.

*  
He does not let Wardo come with him.

*  
He does not want him to leave the room.

*  
Or the dorm.

*  
But mostly not the room.

*  
Christy texts like 40 times and calls at least half that many, so much so that Mark, at one point, threatens to throw Eduardo’s phone out onto the quad. Wardo sends her a text and then puts the phone on silent, but he can see it out of the corner of his eye when the screen flashes bright.

*  
They eat sandwiches and chips and there are glass bottles of cranberry and grape and orange juice, because he has brought back all of the kinds of juice.

*  
Just to be sure.

*  
His fingers feel more sensitive, just going a few days without typing.

*  
Everything seems to slow down and speed up, at the same time.

*  
He has only smoked pot, but this is what he imagines real drugs would feel like.

*  
This is all very different from how it was with Erica.

*  
Eduardo is like some kind of drug.

*  
All the magazine articles and advice columns that said things about  _learning her body _ and  _exploring the erogenous zones _ never made sense with Erica.

*  
And it is not like the gay things, either where it is all about mouth and cock and ass and everyone just wants to get off and then go dance or drink or get off again.

*  
There is a lot more going on.

*  
He never understood why someone would bother with the other bits.

*  
Why would you care about the space behind a person’s kneecap, or the skin on the inside of their thigh, or the place on their shoulder where they have round scars from vaccinations against tropical diseases whose names he can’t even pronounce?

*  
Their  _toes_ , for God’s sake, which are long and dusted with hair.

*  
Or the ridges of their scalp.

*  
Or their armpits.

*  
Or the hard bones of their shins.

*  
Or the tiny soft part of their stomach, no more than a bump.

*  
So it is very different.

*  
Later on Saturday Wardo says _Dude, for serious, you stink_ and he smiles and says  _so_ and Wardo says  _Don’t you want to, like, clean yourself? _ and Mark stretches and says  _I don’t care _ and Wardo says  Maybe _you don’t care, but I do._ Then there is a pause and Wardo says _I’m not giving you a blowjob until you’ve taken a shower_ , and wrinkles up his nose.

*  
This makes sense, since he has had his dick up inside of Wardo many, many times over the last twenty-four hours.

*  
Has it only been a day?

*  
It feels like years.

*  
There has been a pretty insane amount of sex.

*  
He is chafed and raw and cannot stop himself.

*  
Because he wants to push through the pain and be inside of him, again and again.

*  
But still, it could be a little gross.

*  
Even though he himself has spent a good forty minutes exploring Wardo’s ass, before hooking his legs around his waist and pinning him to the ground with his hands.

*  
Wardo is probably not _there_ yet.

*  
He doesn’t really care that much.

*  
It’s nice to focus on someone else during.

*  
He is not sure how to feel about the prospect of a blowjob from Eduardo.

*  
It makes his dick twitch but it also puts a lump in his throat. So there’s that.

*  
Wardo is glaring at him and then looking around the room. They are pretty much barricaded on the blanket, surrounded by a moat of bags and boxes and juice bottles, which are mostly empty by now.

*  
They have drunk basically all of the juice.

*  
 _Okay, _ he says, nodding and pushing himself up.  _Cool, _ says Wardo, reaching for his phone and looking at the display.

*  
He wants to know what is on that phone.

*  
He wants to know _everything._

*  
More than the prospect of Eduardo sucking him off, he is dizzyingly turned on by the thought of somehow, someway, knowing _everything_ that people are thinking, saying, talking about.

*  
It passes quickly, as soon as it comes.

*  
Mark stands over him until he looks up and raises one eyebrow.

*  
 _I’m out of shampoo _ he says, which is not quite a lie. Wardo looks back down at the phone and says  _you can use mine if you want _ and then  _My room key's in my fleece pocket_ and Mark shakes his head and holds out his hand and says  _You'll have to show me_ and Wardo rolls his eyes because he thinks, deep down, that Mark is useless, probably, and says  _You're totally capable of finding a bottle of shampoo on your own, man _ and Mark says  _maybe, but people will think I'm breaking into your room or something_ and Wardo laughs and says  _not like I have anything worth stealing anyways._

*  
He sends a text and then tosses the phone next to him on the blanket and says  _we should clean up in here_ and Mark shrugs.

*  
They dress and gather up stuff and then go to Wardo's room to get his shower caddy, which contains a very full bottle of shampoo in a brown bottle.

*  
Mark says  _do you have your flip-flops_ and Wardo says  _why _ and Mark says  _you don't want to get athlete's foot from the bathroom, do you _ and Wardo is giving him a very funny look.

*  
 _What?_ he says, after a pause.

*  
 _Flip-flops_ Mark says, indicating his own.  _For the shower._

*  
 _Oh,_ Wardo says.

*  
There is a very long pause.

*  
 _Oh,_ he says again, more slowly this time. Mark smiles just a hair.  

*  
Wardo goes  _uh_ and Mark pulls on his sleeve which for him is like  _please_ and says _hurry up_ and they go back downstairs.

*  
It is pretty late, like one-ish, so no one is really around. Someone walks in to pee and then they leave. There are three shower stalls and he takes Wardo’s shower caddy thing and then he goes in to the one furthest from the door and turns on the water as hot as it will go.

*  
It makes wafts of steam come up and when Wardo pulls open the shower curtain he coughs and says  _this is worse than the Everglades in August _ and then he reaches over to to turn on the cold water and when he can’t quite reach even with his weird spider monkey arms he makes this huffy grunt and Mark says  _don’t be such a pussy, Wardo _ and Wardo says _fuck you_ and there is a place where he could make a joke but doesn’t and then they are both in the shower and Wardo gets his hair wet and he is tall, a lot taller, when they are standing upright like this.

*  
He is half wet and more than a little hard and this is the kind of moment that does, in life, feel like it is in a movie.

*  
If it were a movie what would happen?

*  
An actual shower? Making out? Full-on sex?

*  
His flip-flops are full of water and squeaking and he looks at Eduardo’s toes. He is wearing black flip-flops and when Mark looks down his hair gets wet.

*  
Wardo is reaching over again and he thinks it is for him and he flinches. He doesn’t even mean to, but he does and he feels terrible about it. Wardo maybe does not notice because he was actually reaching for the shampoo.

*  
Wardo washes his own hair and Mark washes his own body and is so fucking turned on.

*  
Eduardo looks really nice, all wet and drippy and stuff.

*  
Enough that he, himself, would shower much more often if he got to see that during.

*  
He's like some kind of movie star.

*  
He is much too cute for Mark, actually, because Mark is whatever the opposite of a movie star is.

*  
Wardo says  _come here_ and then he turns Mark around and washes his hair and maybe he’s just overheated or asphyxiating from the steam or whatever but he _cannot breathe_ and he has to jerk away and stand under the water with his head hanging forward and his arm against the wall.

*  
Wardo walks around to the side, so close that they are touching on their sides and their arms and he looks worried.

*  
Or upset.

*  
Angry?

*  
Confused, maybe, maybe he's confused.

*  
 _  
Why can't he read people?  
_

*  
Why can't they just have like, a fucking sign on them at all times that says  _here, person, here is what I am thinking abou_ t or something like  _this is exactly what is running through my head when I look at you _ or even better  _here's what's on my mind._

*  
That would be so much fucking easier.

*  
Because looks don't tell you and words don't tell you, when people say them.

*  
People bury what they mean all the time.

*  
Why can't they just say what they're thinking?

*  
Why can't he just _know?_

*  
Wardo still has suds on his hands and he looks puzzled and he has like  the widest mouth ever when he says  _are you okay? _ and he splutters and says  _yeah, just soap._

*  
That part is not like a movie.

*  
So he decides that they should kiss.

*  
His flip-flops drag because there is water pooling up, shitty drainage from where the floor slopes, and suds are lapping at his ankles, and then he shifts onto his toes and kisses Wardo under the water.

*  
Wardo still has soapy hands so he holds them out to the sides like they’re dirty, which is funny, because soap is intrinsically not dirty.

*  
That is also a sort-of funny joke, but he does not say that either.

*  
Words are impossible.

*  
Eduardo's body is not impossible. It is perfect, and it is so easy. 

*  
Fucking is so easy.

*  
The other stuff, though.

*  
That stuff is so _hard._

*  
There is water everywhere and soap suds underfoot and he kisses Wardo more and harder, against the dividing wall. Wardo is less pliant when they are upright like this. He kisses back, hard. He claws his hand down Mark’s wet side when Mark bites his neck, even harder.

*  
He mumbles something that might be Mark's name, or might be one of the many words Mark does not recognize that he has been saying all weekend.

*  
He should ask what they mean.

*  
They sound so pretty when he says them.

*  
Pushing Eduardo's shins apart and holding his legs open and Wardo mumbling words that are not English.

*  
That is insanely hot to think about. Wardo whimpers and mumbles and Mark bites him again and he tastes like soap and municipal water and fancy shampoo and he wedges his knee between Wardo's thighs and grabs onto his hips and tugs and says _do that agan_ and Wardo gasps and it is muffled by the water and it is not like a movie because there is water getting in his eyes and he is afraid of losing his balance and really  _when did Wardo get so tall?_

*  
 _Do it again _ and he repeats it and Wardo squirms like maybe he wants to get away and he says  what and Wardo says  nothing and then he says  _what if I slip and concuss myself?_ and Mark says _I won't let that happen _ and he reaches out to the side and turns the water off without letting Eduardo go.

*  
Wardo says  _the hell _ and he says  _so you don't slip_ and Wardo says _safety first_ and Mark says  _something like that _ when he is mostly thinking about his eyes stinging from the shower and how in movies people can fuck upright but maybe that is something you can only do with girls although he thinks he's seen porn where this kind of thing happens but really water is kind of crap lube and he is so much shorter.

*  
He puts his hands on Wardo's shoulders and kisses him and they are both all drippy still and it's warm and Wardo's mouth is so wet and so wide and he is a very, very good kisser.

*  
He is pushing his crotch toward Mark's and he is hard too and he can fit his hand around both of them and Wardo whines again and Mark has to stop kissing him and pull away and tilt his head to watch his expression.

*  
Wardo is holding onto Mark and holding on to the metal thing where you put the bar of soap and everything is muggy and wet and Wardo is gasping, _gasping,_ and it reverberates off the humid title walls and it echoes throughout the whole bathroom as he pushes their cocks together and he steps on Wardo's foot by accident and Wardo says  _ow_ and then he says  _oh_ and he is tilting his head away, resting his ear on the wall and Mark leans in and licks from his collarbone to his temple, a stripe that finally tastes like sweat and salt and _Wardo_ and he squeezes and Wardo says  _shit_ and stumbles against the wall and then he is coming onto Mark's dick, onto Mark's stomach, and it is maybe the best feeling in the world.

*  
 _Ah_ Eduardo says, slumping down against the wall.

*  
Mark does not come.

*  
He could, but he won't, just yet.

*  
Because almost immediately after Wardo says  _Now I need another shower _ and Mark says  _looks like it_ and turns the water back on.

*  
He sneaks a few quick strokes when Wardo stands under the shower spray facing away from him. Because his ass is maybe a little flat, but it is still really fucking sexy.

*  
He presses up against it a few times, as if by accident.

*  
It is definitely not an accident. 

*  
They get dressed in the bathroom and then go back downstairs and Wardo starts poking around for something to eat, because he is constantly hungry.

*  
He is so skinny.

*  
He bruises easily, too, because he is so thin, all bones and elbows and kneecaps.

*  
There are bruises inside his thighs and right below his lower back.

*  
He was looking at them in the shower.

*  
He wanted to poke them.

*  
Just to see.

*  
Would it hurt? Would he make noise?

*  
He did not poke the bruised spots, but he looked at them while he was touching himself and pushed his penis up against them, against Wardo's wet skin.

*  
He got out first and went to the toilet, still dripping.

*  
If Wardo had not been there he would have just peed in the shower.

*  
It took a while before he could go.

*  
And now they have gone back to Mark’s room and Wardo says something about cleaning up but he isn’t really paying attention and goes and flops back down onto the floor and turns on the PS2 almost out of routine more than anything else. He props himself up against the couch while Wardo is shuffling around and like, blocking the television and he kicks at him sometimes with his foot, which is bare now.

*  
 _I wish it wasn't so late __,_ Wardo says,  _so we could order something_ and Mark says  _There's probably cereal or whatever out in the social room _ and Wardo says  _is it yours?_ and Mark says  _no, but it's been there all break, probably _ and Wardo says  _or it belongs to someone who just bought it _ and Mark says, without looking up from his game  _I'm just saying, it's there, you could eat some and no one would really notice_ and Wardo says nothing in return.

*  
Then there are vents and valves and fuel monitors to be destroyed on a Japanese supercarrier and that is what he does while Wardo does whatever.

*

He looks up from Medal of Honor every couple of seconds because Wardo is still wearing his t-shirt which, like, has to  mean something and besides that, is just fucking _great_. After a while he notices that the room is clean, or cleaner, and Wardo has been sitting behind him on the couch and messing with his phone and he tosses the controller aside and looks at him.

 _Do you want to sleep _ he says to Wardo’s side and Wardo, like, drops a hand down to touch him lightly on the shoulder and all Mark can think about is  _what is on that stupid phone_ and he says  _I’m not really tired, we slept so late _ but he doesn’t look up from what he is doing even though he is touching Mark’s shoulder so he is not sure what that means.

 _That’s cool, _ he says, going to get his computer.  _I should check the traffic anyways._

*  
Dustin has been keeping up with things. There’s not anything wrong. He could put the computer away.

*  
Wardo is on his phone still and this is annoying.

*  
Then he puts the phone down next to him on the couch and stretches his legs out so they are in Mark’s lap. He then says  _maybe I am, like, a little tired _ and closes his eyes and Mark says nothing for a long time and the tv is still on and the lights are still on and he is trapped under the laptop and under Wardo’s legs and the fucking phone is  right there.

*  
He really wants to look at it.

*  
He goes online instead.

*  
He reads about Sean.

*  
He knows there are rumors.

*  
But Sean is a rock-star, really.

*  
He is all over the internet.

*  
He is famous, pretty much.

*  
Wardo is snoring and has a throw pillow clutched to his chest.

*  
Mark sort of wants to wake him up and do it again.

*  
He should give him a break.

*  
He puts the laptop down on the ground and turns everything off. He pulls the blanket up off the floor and puts it over both of them. He does not fall asleep. He is thinking about Eduardo in the shower and bruises on the backs of his hips and then he is thinking about girls and trying not to imagine what Wardo and Christy are saying about him.

*  
Wardo is snoring and it is too hot on the couch and he is too close to the fucking phone.

*  
He goes and gets in his own bed, minus the blanket. He steeples his fingers and stares at the ceiling until his brain shuts off.

He does not wake up once he falls asleep.

*  
When he does wake up there is someone in the bed with him.

*  
Eduardo is in the bed with him, kind of looking at him.

*  
Mark is lying on his back and it is the last day of break.

*  
Mark rubs the sleep from his eyes and says  _what_ and Wardo says  _you were talking in your sleep_ and Mark says _I was_ and Wardo is propped up on his elbow and is looking at him and says  _maybe you were dreaming_ and Mark blurts out _impossible._

*  
Wardo looks at him.

*  
It makes him feel very strange.

*  
To be looked at like that is very _very_ strange.

*  
It is stranger, still, that Eduardo is the one doing the looking.

*  
Like he is a stack of pancakes.

*  
Or a cafecito.

*  
Or something.

*  
He needs some caffeine.

*  
It must be super early, cause he is still, really tired.

*  
And he snapped at Wardo.

*  
That was mean.

*  
Mark has to explain then and even though he is tired he knows that he has been rude and he says _I don’t dream_ and Wardo says  _not ever _ and he says  _no._

*  
 _Huh,_ he says, a couple of times. And then there is a long pause.

*  
It is too weird to be looked at that way by Wardo.

*  
Mark half sits up on his elbows and squints.  _What time is it __he asks_ and Wardo says  _late, like almost three _ and he says  _shit _ and then sitting up more he says  _shit, you should have woken me up_ and Wardo is propped up on his elbow and his head is in his hand and he is still looking at Mark like he is breakfast, like it is still breakfast time, morning time, and he says _the day’s half over, practically_ and Wardo's voice cracks that way that it does when he's excited or upset and he says  _you needed sleep, you were pooped_ and he is really worn out, but he doesn't want to say that.

*  
It's not from working too hard.

*  
Like, at all.

*  
Since whatever _this_ is started to be a thing, he has not done a bit of work.

*  
That is so bad.

*  
facebook needs to be a priority.

*  
Because it is a great idea.

*  
Much better than a chain of moderately successful yogurt shops.

*  
 _  
It has to be big.  
_

*  
Bigger than any Madison Avenue bullshit, bigger than any Miami-based import-export bullshit.

*  
facebook is going to be so huge.

*  
And he is going to be _so fucking rich._

*  
Even more than being rich.

*  
He will _know things._

*  
He will be on the inside.

*  
Not the outside.

*  
 _  
Inside  
_

*  
Although.

*  
It would be excellent if he could just keep doing this always.

*  
This is just as good as the site.

*  
 _  
It is maybe better than the site.  
_

*  
But it is less important.

*  
Eduardo is a distraction.

*  
A distraction who is like, now, breathing heavier and closer to Mark's mouth and fingering the side of his cheek and saying  _can we go out for real food after _ and Mark thinks _fuck it, who cares_ and says  _after what _ although his mind is being pulled in eighty different directions at once his mouth is moving closer to Eduardo's mouth which is breathing out on his neck now and saying in his ear lightly  _after you come in my mouth _ and Mark feels his dick twitch at that but then he is like  _whoa, wait, Wardo_ and he doesn't say anything because he is blushing under his shirt collar and Wardo is doing this absolutely  _adorable _ thing where he is pushing his chin into his own shoulder and kind of smiling and hiding at the same time.

*  
 _  
Jesus.  
_

*  
He needs a minute.

*  
Wardo is like giggling and sort of nuzzling at his own shoulder and then at Mark's shoulder and then he is kissing him again and Mark wishes he had brushed his teeth first.

*  
Eduardo tastes like coffee.

*  
Which means he left when Mark was asleep to go and get coffee.

*  
And did not wake Mark up.

*  
And he is kissing Eduardo and Eduardo is kissing back and he is trying to think only of the kissing and not Eduardo leaving while he was asleep and going to the d-hall or off campus or to meet Christy at Peet's for doppio espressos and holding hands and him kissing her.

*  
He hates Christy so fucking much.

*  
He kisses Wardo even harder as he realizes this.

*  
He wonders if Wardo's mouth would bruise if he kissed it hard enough.

*  
Wardo has just offered to suck him off.

*  
He does not know how to feel about this one bit. 

*  
He wants to say something, really, even though Wardo's breath is hot and his mouth is so perfect and he is touching Mark's face.

*  
Just with one finger.

*  
It feels like it weighs a metric ton where he is touching Mark's cheek with just one finger.

*  
Eduardo Saverin is kissing Mark Zuckerberg.

*  
Oh, Jesus, _what the hell._

*  
Because even as Wardo is like, fitting himself between Mark's ear and his shoulder and kissing his neck and along his jawline, which he is gritting down on, practically grinding his back teeth and he does not know why.

*  
It's not like he has not has Eduardo on his back all weekend.

*  
Or with his ass in the air and Mark's fingers up inside of him.

*  
Or with his head buried between his legs as he bites down on his fist.

*  
Because they did all of those things.

*  
Sex things.

*  
Why is this time different, with Wardo (Wardo!) being there in his fucking dorm bed (in Kirkland House!) whispering these things into his neck like he's embarrassed to say them?

*  
Because they are _dirty,_ the things Wardo is saying, and he is not so sure he likes Wardo saying them.

*  
Wardo is up against his ear and biting his earlobe and saying _I want to taste you _ and  _please Mark I want you in my mouth _ and he doesn't even say  _cock_ or  _dick _ or anything and it sounds so incredibly _unbelievably dirty_ that he feels like he is falling out of bed.

*  
Those are not the kinds of things Wardo should say or want to do.

*  
He is far too nice for that.

*  
Mark shuts his eyes because he is being rolled onto his back and Wardo is like, sitting on top of him and grinding his hips against Mark's own and of course he woke up with morning wood, of course he fucking did, and Wardo is smiling and he has to shut his eyes.

*  
He opens them almost instantly, because then he imagines Wardo in his horrible Hawaiian print shirt and that stupid fucking hat and he feels a hand go down his pants and he feels so confused.

*  
Because Eduardo is kissing all over him, he has pushed up Mark's shirt and pushed down his pants (those fucking stupid basketball things, Jesus, he needs to throw those away) and is touching his fucking tongue to the tip of his dick and he is hard and leaking and his cock is out in the fucking open and Eduardo looks shy and scared again and then he looks resolved and then he keeps licking and Mark's brain jolts everywhere at once.

*  
Because he doesn't want to think about him doing this with anyone else, he suddenly realizes.

*  
He wants Wardo to not be like him.

*  
Because he is nice, and polite, and so handsome, and really, totally polite and considerate and stuff.

*  
He is basically the nicest person ever.

*  
And nice people do not do things like that.

*  
He, Mark, is not nice.

*  
He is not a nice person.

*  
What he is is very _very_ smart.

*  
Smarter than all his teachers, smarter than all his professors, smarter than his parents.

*  
Smarter than Wardo.

*  
 _  
Not Sean.  
_

*  
And Eduardo should not want to kiss him all over his stupid concave chest like this because he is not nice, and he is not attractive.

*  
Maybe, like, to gay men.

*  
Because they don't care, they'll fuck anything.

*  
And he's good at that stuff.

*  
Not to girls, he figured that out.

*  
What if Wardo is like some kind of sex god?

*  
What if the reason Christy keeps texting is because she wants to have sex with Eduardo a bunch of times?

*  
Christy is _such a fucking whore._

*  
Wardo is too good for her.

*  
He is too good for both of them. 

*  
It is weird and wonderful and Wardo is touching him like he was doing to him before and he is all mixed up inside.

*  
It all feels so great, in some ways.

*  
Like Wardo is kissing his dick and that feels really great and he puts his hand on top of Wardo's head and that feels great too because he has really thick hair that he can push his fingers into and Wardo is like  doing stuff down there and he wrenches one eye open to look because it is so fucking sexy the things Wardo is doing even though he maybe does not really know what he is doing.

*  
He kind of keeps burying his face like maybe he is ashamed.

*  
Or scared.

*  
Or embarrassed.

*  
Aroused?

*  
Bored?

*  
Freaked out?

*  
Jesus, what is Wardo _thinking about_ , with his nose down there in Mark's crotch?

*  
What is he thinking about taking the head in his mouth and like, swirling his fucking tongue around like a porn star?

*  
And then stopping and kissing his stomach and shit?

*  
What does he mean?

*  
Maybe he doesn't want to.

*  
God, but it was _his_ idea.

*  
This is all so fucking confusing.

*  
Wardo has like, the hottest mouth ever.

*  
Mark desperately hopes that he has never done this before.

*  
Maybe Wardo just looked on the internet or something.

*  
He could have asked, but he does not want to know the answer.

*  
Because then his mind flashes to some horrible dark place where first Wardo is wearing that stupid fucking hat and that stupid fucking shirt and doing his stupid fucking dance and neither of them can feel their legs and there is something that belongs only to the two of them.

*  
And then it is not that.

*  
Because there is a letter and a party and an invitation for Wardo only.

*  
And was it a diversity thing?

*  
Or was it because he would be nice to play with?

*  
 _  
The shit they do.  
_

*  
Oh, God, fuck, please not with Wardo.

*  
 _  
If they did anything to him.  
_

*  
He hates all the clubs so fucking much.

*  
All of them.

*  
All that exclusive bullshit.

*  
He is gripping Wardo's hair tighter without even knowing it.

*  
Because he is so infuriatingly sickeningly angry thinking about Eduardo giving head to some club-coated entitled shithead blond kid from New Hampshire and he hates everything more than he even knows how to express.

*  
He doesn't even mean to hurt him but he probably is and he isn't even aware that his hips are moving up, his cock is nudging against the ridges of Eduardo's mouth and there is spit running down everywhere.

*  
Wardo is using his hands, too.

*  
That's pretty amateur.

*  
Feels nice, though.

*  
God, his hands are huge.

*  
He momentarily wonders what it would feel like to have Wardo's fingers inside of him, and that confuses him too.

*  
Wardo has beautiful lips.

*  
And even if it is not really like porn or whatever, it makes his nuts go tight with heat every time Eduardo bears down on his dick.

*  
Because holy shit,  _Wardo has his mouth on Mark's dick._

*  
It is kind of clumsy and he keeps stopping and having to breathe.

*  
Like he can't get the angle right.

*  
He's got to be new at this.

*  
Why does he even care?

*  
Jesus, _why is he such an asshole?_

*  
This thing, right here, is fucking awesome.

*  
Eduardo Saverin is sucking his dick on a Sunday at fucking Harvard fucking University in Kirkland House.

*  
He really needs to be paying more attention. 

*  
Because Wardo is blowing him and he is not even paying attention because his mind is being eaten up with crazy.

*  
He resolves that he is going to say something when they are done with this round.

*  
Because when he thinks about Monday happening and the next day happening and then the day after that he does not think that he can go on like this, really.

*  
So he'll do that.

*  
After he gets Wardo off, again.

*  
Because Wardo sucking his dick is nice and all, but it is barely a blip in comparison to watching Wardo come.

*  
That is maybe just as good as facebook.

*  
It's maybe somehow the most amazing thing he has ever done.

*  
He groans and forces himself to push all the weirdness out of his head and then he touches Eduardo's hair, and then his ear, and then his cheek, and then his jawline, and then he is touching Wardo's mouth and tracing around his lips which are wrapped tight around the shaft of his cock.

*  
Wardo makes this little humming sound and _fuck_ if he doesn't almost come right away at that.

*  
He does it again when Mark slips his index finger in alongside, stretching Wardo's mouth even wider.

*  
He makes a happy grunt and pulls back a little bit to bite the tip of Mark's finger and then take it into his mouth, instead, when Mark pushes it there.

*  
The inside of his mouth is so soft.

*  
Wardo is all sweaty and flushed and his lips are all slick and he needs to be inside of him, like, _right fucking now._

*  
 _Wardo_ he chokes out, because Wardo is still sucking on his finger like it is the most delicious thing in the world and his neck muscles are like, bobbing up and down and his ears are huge and he is so fucking perfect in every possible way.

*  
 _  
Wardo  
_  
he says again, sort of sitting up and putting his hands under Wardo's armpits and pulling him towards him and on top of him.

*  
Wardo still has all of his clothes on but Mark can feel that he's hard, too.

*  
Up close his eyes look so dark and sleepy like he's the one who's just woken up, not Mark.

*  
God, he needs to fuck him five minutes ago.

*  
He grabs Wardo's ass and says _I want to fuck you again_ and Wardo giggles into his shoulder and says  _was my mouth not good enough for you _ and then he feels like an asshole because maybe Wardo wanted to get him off like that and he was being weird and he says  _no, shit, no _ and Wardo says  _really _ and he sounds so fucking sad that Mark has to kiss him and nip at his neck and says  _fuck no, Wardo, it was so hot _ and Wardo grabs his shoulder and hides his face in Mark's neck and he does not want him to feel ashamed or like he did a bad job and he touches under his chin and says  _it felt great, seriously_ and Wardo is nodding like he believes him, maybe, and he whispers in Wardo's ear this time  _it felt really great, but it will feel even better when I come inside of you, don't you think so_ and Eduardo's face is all sweaty but he still shivers.

*  
 _I'm sore _  
Wardo whines, but even as he is saying this he has a big stupid smile on his face, and he is pushing his crotch against Mark's bare erection and he is running his fingers over Mark's chest where the t-shirt is pushed up.

*  
 _Are you _ he says and Wardo nods and Mark says  _I'll be gentle_ and then Wardo ducks his head in again and says, low against Mark's neck  _Can I be on top this time_ and his dick flexes hard against his stomach and he is dizzy with how hot that is and he says  _Christ yes_ and Wardo pushes up off and goes to get things and Mark fists his own cock, lazily, when he leaves, because when he leaves he can stare at his ass for as long as he likes.

*  
He gets undressed all the way and when Wardo comes back he starts to get undressed too and he has that blue shirt of Mark's on still and when he goes to take that off Mark says _leave it on_ and Wardo already has it halfway over his head but he lets it drop back down and he climbs back onto the bed and smiles against Mark's mouth.

*  
He still tastes like coffee. 

*  
And then Wardo takes his underwear off and he is like, kissing all over his torso and his top half and he is pressing his own erection between Wardo's bare thighs and then rubbing against the cleft of his ass, leaving slick trails of precome all over his butt and lower back.

*  
And then Wardo is getting out a bottle and reaching behind him while he is still crouched over Mark and making this face like he is concentrating very very hard.

*  
Mark has to swallow hard at that, too.

*  
Because  _fucking holy shit._

*  
And then Wardo says _help me out here, would you_ and he is nodding his head in the direction of his ass and then Mark is doing the touching and his ass is slippery and his fingers go in pretty easy and Wardo says  _shit_ and then he starts like  rocking onto Mark's fingers and his arms are not really long enough for this to be a sustainable thing but wow.

*  
 _  
Wow.  
_

*  
Wardo is like, pitching back and forth and his dick is touching Mark's upper stomach with every movement and his eyes are closed and he is panting, gently.

*  
And then he is moving to sit down on Mark and says it again  _a little help, please_ and so he has to hold his cock straight up so Wardo can ease himself down onto it.

*  
Oh. My. God.

*  
What.

*  
Jesus.

*  
Wardo's ass is  _tight._

*  
His weight is on Mark and his hips are on top of Mark and his ass is possibly the greatest thing to ever occur ever.

*  
Oh, wow.

*  
 _  
Fuck, Wardo  
_  
he says, and Wardo laces their fingers together and starts to move from his hips.

*  
Oh, wow.

*  
His hair is sweaty and his mouth is all wet and he is saying Mark's name.

*  
Eduardo is whimpering Mark's name and then some other things.

*  
One thing that sounds like Mark's name and then some more syllables.

*  
He doesn't know if that's what it means but he likes how the sounds slide over him.

*  
They make him feel like this is real.

*  
Something between just them.

*  
He thinks that Wardo maybe does not say those words with other people, but he says them in his sleep and he says them to Mark, whose dick he is currently riding, like, very fucking hard.

*  
 _  
Jesus.  
_

*  
Eduardo is sliding up and down Mark's cock and his own cock is bobbing around and his head is bent forward with concentration and he is saying Mark's name plus more syllables and then some other things.

*  
 _Marcinho _  
is what it sounds like.

*  
And  _...sim, sim, sim..._

*  
He grabs Wardo's wrist and says  _Talk like that more_ and Wardo says  _do you want to know what it means_ and Mark says  _no, just talk_ and Wardo smiles.

*  
He closes his eyes and lets Wardo do the work and listens to all these words that wash over him like the ocean.

*  
 _...você não tem idéia do que eu estou dizendo..._ he says.

*  
Mark feels heat coiling up in his stomach, his nuts drawing up tight.

*  
 _  
...que se sente tão bom...  
_

*  
He is grabbing onto Wardo's sweaty hips and helping him move.

*  
 _  
...poderia dizer nada...  
_

*  
He opens his eyes and everything is blurry and bleary and Wardo is on top of him and  wearing his t-shirt and he has never felt so close to being lucky in his life.

*  
 _  
...seu pau sente incrível...  
_

*  
 _Wardo_ he gasps out, because he is close.

*  
Wardo speeds up and says _Eu só quero te foder... _ in like, the dirtiest tone of voice imaginable, so it's probably something dirty and then he says  _....você significa muito para mim... _ and that is probably even dirtier, from the sounds of it and Mark throws his head back and Wardo is still talking now, leaning forward, changing the angle, making Mark lose his last tiny shred of self-control and he grabs Wardo by the ass  _hard _ and feels himself go all the way inside Eduardo _hard _ and then he is coming, all at once, very hard indeed. 

*  
Wardo is saying his name again and then he comes, too, and then they are both quiet.

*  
The bed is probably gross.

*  
He and Wardo are _definitely_ gross.

*  
Mark does not want to go anywhere, even as Wardo is wriggling up and away he says  _hey hey_ and Wardo says  _what _ and Mark says  _just, like, hang out for a second _ and Wardo kisses him on the mouth and he grabs his wrist and Wardo says  _okay, but I'm hungry._

*  
 _In a minute_ he says, poking his nose at the back of Wardo's hairline where it is wet.  _Just a minute._

*  
Wardo is all flopped on top of him and is doing that thing where he goes all boneless and it is super nice.

*  
He strokes Wardo's back, right under the edge of the t-shirt. Wardo mumbles and he says  _huh_ and Wardo says _food, I was promised food _ and Mark says  _we'll order something_ and Wardo says  _we're supposed to go out as per the terms of our arrangement_ and Mark thinks back to when he woke up with Wardo in bed with him and what he said about _coming in Wardo's mouth _ and he says _I don't remember agreeing to any such arrangement_ and Wardo says  _you did, you did, trust me, I'm your CFO _ and just like that there is a wedge in between them and it is suddenly not break any more.

*  
 _  
Oh, God, what is this?  
_

*  
What are they doing?

*  
Does this mean something?

*  
Are they like, going out now?

*  
What about Christy?

*  
What about California?

*  
 _  
Oh motherfuck.  
_

*  
Wardo looks at him, pulling back, and he looks at Wardo and then down over onto the floor at the discarded pile of clothes and they are both quiet for a while and then they both are talking at once, too fast, talking and not listening.

*  
"--I know he's cool, or whatever, but I wish you would trust me about this whole thing--"

"--the stuff in New York, back at my parents' place and --"

"--just the whole name change, and I don't think I trust him as far as I could throw him--"

"--with Christy and I don't know what is supposed to be happening here--'

"--I know all that but I don't like the way he looks, he's a total sleaze--"

"--I know she's hot and you're not gay and I'm not either--"

"--wait, what?"

"--who are you talking about?"

"--who are  _you _ talking about?"

*  
Oh.

*  
They are kind of staring at one another from sitting side by side on the bed and Wardo is looking at Mark and Mark is looking anywhere but at Wardo, at the floor, at the bedspread, at the desk, at his nails, at the door--

*  
"Mark! You here? Chris and I brought back tequila from Mexico and--"

*  
 _  
"---aaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggrrrrrrrrrrhhhhhhhh"  
_

*  
So then Chris and Dustin are home and have seen him and Eduardo naked after fucking and that is pretty embarrassing.

*  
But it does save him the trouble of explaining where all the noodles went, or why the room smells like sex.

*  
Because now that the door has been opened Mark is acutely aware that the room smells like sex.

*  
He flushes and Wardo stammers and they are both trying to pull their pants on and Dustin slams the door very loudly and shouts "We'll just be in the social room, no big, no big," and he can hear them scuffling down the hall loudly and he pinches between his eyes because the pressure is suddenly very bad.

*  
He and Wardo get dressed very quickly and then just like that everything is over.

*  
Dustin and Chris come back in later and they sort of nod at Wardo and scrutinize Mark and he knows they were talking about them out in the social room and he feels pissed that he does not even know, still, if this thing they are doing warrants a  _them _ or if he is just a business partner or a phase or an experiment.

*  
He does not want to be.

*  


Dustin tells them all about the girls they could have hooked up with (yeah, _right_ ),and Chris has stopped for pot on the way in to campus, so they smoke some of that and there is some tequila and then they argue about going out or not going out and they order pizza and there is more multiplayer Medal of Honor and he and Wardo are looking at one another from different places on the couch where they had all that sex and Mark cannot help but grin at his knees like a dork.

*  
It's really nice, it's like it should be.

*  
Then Dustin brings up stuff, like server space and scripts and that is all his attention right there and then he and Chris both want to know about the meet with Sean and Wardo stands up and says _I have an 8:30 class tomorrow, I should head_ and Dustin does not look up from his game and says  _what is the point of being an upperclassman if you're still taking classes before noon?_ and Wardo smiles a tight-lipped smile and says  _some of us are preparing for the schedule of the corporate working world, Dustin_ and Dustin says  _fuck that _ and Mark could not agree more.

*  
 _I'll walk you up_ Mark says and then everyone turns and stares at him and Chris' player gets shot twice in the head and he says  _what_ and they are all staring at him like he has grown a third arm.

*  
 _What _  
he says again, because, really, what?

*  
No one answers him.

*  
Not even Wardo, who gathers up his stuff and carries it all up to his room and Mark follows him.

*  
Wardo is really loaded down with stuff, but it is only as he is fumbling for his keys and trying to not drop things that Mark realizes he should have helped and he says  _here let me _ and takes the key to unlock the door to his single and when he opens it something scuffs across the floor with a swish and when he looks down there is an ivory envelope on the floor, marked with a gray streak from the door.

*  
He does not stay to see what it says.

*  
He already knows what it says.

*  
He goes back to the room and wires himself in and doesn't stop until he has missed all of his Monday classes and slept through all of his Tuesday ones. 


	7. Rolling

*  
Wardo comes by on Tuesday evening and says  _you get a lot done yesterday_ and he says  _huh_ and Wardo says  _I sent you three texts did you not see _ and Mark says  _oops_ because his phone was on the couch and he was at his desk and he did not get up once.

*   
Wardo is very dressed up for a Tuesday.

*  
 _You going somewhere_ he says and Wardo shrugs in a way that should mean something and he knows that he is not going to a Young Investor's Meeting or to dinner with Christy and he should not be so jealous of someone he cares about but he is, wildly, scorchingly so.

*   
_  
Think about the money. You could buy Mount Auburn Street with that.   
_

*  
So he says  _have fun_ and Wardo says  _I'll try_ and Mark says  _I have a break tomorrow for lunch, do you want to have lunch _ and Wardo does that thing where he sticks his lips out and sucks his breath in through his teeth and he says  _about lunch _ and Mark knows, already, he already knows that  you have lunch at your club, that's the rule, you have lunch there cause you don't live there and Wardo is never going to eat lunch with him again.

*  
 _Dinner,_ then he says, in a rush, a hurried rush, because he does not want to hear  _sorry _ because that is the worst word to hear of all.

*   
He cannot stand apologies.

*   
More than goodbyes, he cannot fucking stand apologies.

*  
And Wardo smiles and touches him on the arm and says  _are you sure you're all right_ and they have not kissed or touched or had sex since Sunday afternoon and they cannot do so now because Dustin is there, coding at a tear that he should definitely not step in to stop -- because mother of fucking _fuck_ there is a lot to get done, the membership hurtling toward a hundred thousand,  a hundred thousand people caring about something Mark Zuckerberg did, a hundred thousand people wanting to be part of Mark Zuckerberg's fucking club-- and Chris is on the couch grumbling at _Antiques Roadshow_ \-- and there are no kisses, just a smile and this touch on the arm and he says  _dinner would be great_ and Mark says  _seven _ and Wardo says  _I'll meet you downstairs then_ and Dustin shouts  _Bye Wardo _ and Chris says  _Later_ and Mark goes back to work.

*   
When he comes out of it on Wednesday he barely has enough time to shower before he goes downstairs, with his hair still wet and his flip flops still full of water.

*   
He is excited to see Wardo.

*   
Wardo is not dressed in a suit, which is how, Mark has decided, he likes him the best of all.

*   
Maybe even more than when he is naked.

*   
He looks really cute.

*   
Younger than Mark, somehow.

*   
So he is happy that Wardo has on a pair of jeans and his Northface and he looks really cute and Mark is wondering if there would be repercussions if he, like, kissed him right there in the d-hall and right when he is starting to sequence the possibilities of what that outcome would be he notices that Wardo, who looks super super cute and very very kissable is carrying a cage.

*   
At Wardo's feet there is a cage with a fucking _chicken_ in it. 

*  
He glances at Wardo who kind of rolls his eyes and then he says  _what's with the chicken _ and Wardo says  _I have to have the chicken with me at all times_ and he says  _right_ because both of them know it is an initiation thing that they're not supposed to talk about.

*   
Because he is back on the outside again.

*   
Even though he has had his dick inside of Eduardo Saverin he is not part of _this._

*   
Of this thing.

*   
This school thing, this Harvard thing.

*   
This inside the Ivy League thing.

*   
Because no one told him that even getting in to Harvard won't make you like that.

*   
Going to Harvard is _not enough_ when you are still just the son of Karen and Edward Zuckerberg from Dobbs Ferry, New York and your family has not been here since the Mayflower.

*   
Wardo did not come over on the Mayflower.

*   
He is new here himself.

*   
Why would they pick _him_ , then?

*   
These thoughts are ugly.

*   
He hates that he is having them, so he looks at the chicken.

*   
He stares at it for a very long time, and he realizes that while he does not like making eye contact with other people he can look the chicken in the eye until one of them blinks first.

*   
Wardo is eating chicken for dinner and Mark is pushing around the remains of a bowl of Cap'n Crunch and everything they could talk about feels like a landmine so they just babble.

*   
Eduardo feeds his chicken some of the chicken from his plate.

*  
 _Is that, like, cannibalism_ he says and Wardo says  _what now_ and Mark is looking at his ears again and his long lovely fingers feeding the stupid fucking chicken and the sweet look of concentration he has on his face he says  nothing.

*   
They go to Wardo's room this time, but Wardo is worried and they have to be a lot more quiet.

*   
There are people in the dorms.

*   
Who tell other people things.

*   
Rumor is huge.

*   
He never hears gossip.

*   
It would be nice to know things first.

*   
He is trying to fuck Eduardo and there is a fucking chicken staring at him.

*   
He hates that goddamned bird.

*   
It takes longer than it should because he keeps being distracted by the chicken and Wardo being so silent again, no matter what he does to him.

*   
The chicken is louder than Eduardo is, really.

*  
Afterward they are both sitting there and Wardo says _I should have brought back some cereal or something for it to eat, huh_ because the chicken is now making weird noises and Mark wants to open its cage and wring its neck and instead he says  _yeah instead of feeding chicken to a chicken _ and Wardo says  _shit, man, I didn't even think about that_ and Mark says  _you think anyone saw _ because maybe Wardo will get reported, get like a demerit or something and not make it through and be able to still have lunch with him and Wardo says  _I hope not _ and he says  _maybe, you have to be careful, right._

*  
Wardo says  _shit_ and Mark feels really bad so he says  _I'm sure it's fine, no one saw_ and Wardo looks sick and he says  _I'm sure it's fine_ but Wardo does not seem to be listening.

*  
He gets dressed and Wardo is in his underwear sitting cross-legged on the bed and he needs to know what is happening and he says  _What about Christy _ and Wardo is looking at the chicken and he looks sad but also puzzled and he says  _I need a date for stuff, Mark_ and he feels like he's taken a jab on the chin because despite the sex or whatever, Wardo cannot be _gay_ , in his life.

*   
He backs up a full pace when Wardo says this.

*  
He shoves his hand in his pocket and says _okay_

*  
 _Okay, _ he says, slowly, moving back more towards the door.  _See you later, then _ and Wardo says  _I mean-- _ and Mark cuts him off again because of _sorry sorry sorry_ which he knows just means  _you are so utterly pathetic_ and he says  _I get it._

*   
He does not want to be like some stupid girl, waiting by the phone for Eduardo to call him.

*   
That is such a faggy thing to do.

*   
_  
Fuck that.   
_

*  
 _Bye, _ he says and Wardo says  _I'll see you tomorrow, okay_ and Mark says  _just come find me_ and he shuts the door and when he goes down the steps his eyes are burning.

*   
Mark decides that his eyes are burning because he is allergic to chicken feathers. 

*  
He goes back to the room because where else is he going to go and Chris and Dustin have camped out on the couch watching some gory movie with a lot of knives and blood and boobs and he says  _how was your date_ which is like the closest anyone has come to acknowledging that there is a thing, that there could be a  _them_ and he is dizzy with all these fucking feelings.

*  
And this is exactly the reason why _you_ _should not do feelings._

*   
Fucking people.

*   
They make _no fucking sense._

*  
Dustin says  _dude, are you okay _ and Mark says _allergies _ and Chris is obviously stoned and engrossed in the movie and Dustin looks concerned and says  _do you want to hang out and watch this with us_ and he doesn't want to see blood or boobs and he says _is there any of that tequila left _ and Dustin says  _yeah, by my desk_ and he goes over there and drinks some of the tequila and then he gets a beer and then he drinks more of the tequila until he is buzzed enough to code and then he can code enough to check out.

*   
Wardo comes by Thursday, like he said he would.

*   
He still has the goddamned chicken with him.

*   
The rest of the week goes like this.

*   
He is drunk on the internet and he knows this is a bad thing.

*   
There is so much to do, though, because membership is almost at 150,000.

*   
He has been emailing with Sean.

*   
Sean writes extremely long and detailed emails.

*   
He tells Mark what parts of campus are good to live near, he hooks him up with the names of property managers. He tells him stories. He gives him ideas. He is extremely prompt in his response times. Like Mark, Sean never seems to sleep.

*   
If he is not sleeping either, Sean must also be working on something, too.

*   
Or maybe he is just being a rock star, like he does.

*   
They all write code even though Chris is starting to get all freaked out about his GPA and whatever, like his parents are going to stop paying.

*   
Like that would happen.

*   
Dustin calls out numbers at random intervals while they work.

*   
The numbers keep getting bigger and bigger.

*   
He writes code and he writes emails and basically nothing else.

*   
His inbox is full of emails from Sean and property management companies who send him pictures.

*   
He likes the places with pools.

*   
He is still thinking that they could lay by the pool.

*   
He could write outside, if they were in the shade, because of the glare.

*   
The guys would not care about whatever he and Wardo got up to.

*   
The CEO and the CFO are the most important people in the company, he figures, so they will be able to have their own bedroom.

*   
They need at least one bedroom, but they can share.

*   
Chris can have the couch, and Dustin and the interns can have the floor.

*   
They'll get some mattresses or whatever.

*   
Sean will know where.

*   
Wardo comes by like twice a day and brings them stuff, like food.

*   
He picks up the stuff from the night before. He tries to get everyone to sleep and eat fruit.

*   
He is always wearing suits, though, because school has started back up and he has some idea that he's supposed to do that.

*   
His suits always smell like the dry cleaner and like cologne and Mark hates it.

*   
He can smell it on Wardo's shirt cuff when he stands behind Mark and rubs his neck when he is in hour sixteen and his tendons feel like they might snap.

*   
Part of him wants to wrench himself away from the computer and to knock everything to the ground and spread Wardo out over his desk, yanking off his stupid suit and making him gasp.

*   
The rest feels like the gravitational pull of Mars, like he cannot even lift his legs.

*   
That part is heavier.

*   
There is so much to get done, way too much for the three of them to do.

*   
They need interns. They need more help.

*   
Dustin is spreading the word that there will be hacking in the CS lab soon enough.

*   
People have been asking around Dworkin, all secretive.

*   
This is like Fight Club or something.

*   
It's pretty awesome. 

*   
There is _so fucking much_ to do.

*   
He cannot stop himself typing, he cannot look away.

*   
He cannot spare Wardo his hand, or his mouth.

*   
He does not have time to touch himself or even to go to the bathroom.

*   
He does not have time to fuck Wardo, which sucks in a major fucking way.

*   
He is glad to be busy because Wardo is also busy.

*   
That way he is not waiting around for him, which is pathetic.

*   
But he only has those two states.

*   
[ON/OFF] - [0/1] - [Y/N]

*   
And he does not have an in-between.

*   
Being with Wardo is like being in-between.

*   
It is massively confusing.

*   
But when Wardo closes fingers around his neck or cards them through his hair he sighs.

*   
He is either working or he is not.

*   
He is either [ON] or he is [OFF].

*   
So when Wardo is there and he is working he would like to shut off, but it's as if he cannot.

*   
Because he cannot be [OFF] there is too much to do.

*   
Plus Wardo is busy, too.

*   
He is going to parties, he is taking Christy as his date.

*   
There is black tie, which is the suit-iest suit of them all.

*   
It's like prom all over again but a million times worse.

*   
But he lets Wardo rub his neck while he works, and Wardo does not make him talk and he does not ask questions.

*   
He knows it's all over his head.

*   
The whole field of macroeconomics is child's play compared to what Mark does in an hour and a half.

*   
But Wardo does not ask.

*   
He likes the way his fingers feel in his hair, and if he could close his eyes for just one minute it would be to tip his head back and let Wardo rub his scalp for just a tiny little while.

*   
_  
But there is just too much to do.   
_

*   
And the traffic is so crazy and Texas is coming around and then Washington state and then so much more in California, so much more that Wardo has to go to the CVS and get them more pins to mark the schools.

*   
He has not been to class since coming back from break.

*   
He opens a page under an alias so he can find out what the hell he is supposed to be writing about for his Art History final. It proves to be incredibly easy to get people to reveal everything they think. All it takes is one trolling question and people spill their opinions everywhere. They tell you everything they ever thought about, ever.

*   
Facebook is crazy like that.

*   
Mark now knows what 150,000 people are thinking about.

*   
Which is a lot of people. 

*   
_  
150,001 though.   
_

*   
Maybe that is a bit different.

*   
There is an article about the chicken.

*   
Which is kind of hilarious.

*   
He hates that fucking chicken.

*   
When Wardo leaves he is pissed off and Mark rereads the Crimson article sitting and spinning in his chair.

*   
He does not check his outgoing mailbox or the browser history on his computer.

*   
He purses his mouth up and decides that Wardo is right, the Winklevii did it. Or someone from the Porc, the Fly.

*   
_  
It's not like it was him.   
_

*   
So there is more code.

*   
He knows what over a hundred and fifty thousand fucking people are thinking.

*   
That is immensely powerful.

*   
Like, it makes him really horny.

*   
All of a sudden.

*   
He has to tamp it down, because there is code to write.

*   
But then it is too much.

*  
When Dustin and Chris go to set up in the CS lab for the hacking stuff, using the program he wrote on one computer while the other one blinked at him, reproachfully,  _hurry up hurry up _ he texts Wardo and says _get your ass down here, Saverin, I want to fuck you_ and Wardo shows up ten minutes later and he has to be in the CS lab by 10 so they only really get their pants off and it is far too rushed but it is so nice and it feels familiar.

*  
Mark is looking at Eduardo's face and he does not want to roll off of him but he has to be in the lab to help set up and he says  _will you come _ and Wardo says  _do you want me to_ and he says  _of course._

*   
He means all of it.

*   
He goes in first and everything is crazy like geek Fight Club and it is awesome.

*   
Wardo comes in later and he makes the crack about the chicken, which was mean. He resolves to stop thinking about the chicken. It's just a blip.

*   
There are new interns and he rents a house.

*   
The Bay Area is a cluster of pins.

*   
Those pins are blue when facebook is there.

*   
Mark cannot fucking wait for that whole map of the US to be dotted with little blue pins.

*   
This is kind of a big deal.

*   
_  
Holy shit.   
_

*   
And then they are all looking at the map and the clusters of dots in the big cities and Mark feels his chest swell because he is so proud.

*   
He is allowed to be proud of this thing, which he made.

*   
_  
Him.   
_

*   
He feels, in maybe in a tiny way, like a god.

*   
Or a king.

*   
That's less creepy.

*   
President?

*   
_  
CEO.   
_

*   
That's better.

*   
That's not weird at all.

*   
Eduardo will be a CEO someday.

*   
So there's that.

*  
They all stare at the map and then Wardo says  _we should take a break and celebrate_ and Mark is thinking of the blue pins all of the blue pins and says  _we don't have the time_ and Wardo says  _okay, I should go, then_ and Mark grabs his hand as he is taking it away from his shoulder and he says  _no, stay._

*  
 _Just, like, hang out for a sec,_ he says, and Wardo gets it. He can feel from behind him, without having to look at him, that he gets it.

*   
That is something he has never felt with anyone, not anyone.

*   
He does not know how this is supposed to be put into words.

*   
Or he does.

*   
But, oh, wow.

*   
Not, no.

*   
No fucking way.

*   
_  
No fucking way.   
_

*   
He keeps going. Lines and lines and lines that stretch for infinity.

*  
But he stops for a second when Wardo pinches his shoulder and rubs at a knot there and says  _you need a better chair or something_ and Mark does not answer because he is on to the next line and he has to keep going forward and keep the cursor moving to the right, like some kind of shark.

*   
A coding shark.

*   
He should tell Chris that, later, he'll think it's hilarious.

*  
So then there is code and a blipping cursor and  _to the right to the right to the right._

*   
But Wardo stays there.

*   
He does not move his hands away.

*   
And when Wardo's fingers rest, lightly, on his collarbones, he stops typing for two seconds to run his teeth over Wardo's fingers and then kiss them, before turning his attention back to the computer. 

*   
They have some interns now, and Dustin delegates stuff for them to do.

*   
He is just glad he does not have to think about anything.

*   
Wardo does the money, and Chris does the publicity, and Dustin does the delegating and he can just do what he does best, which is to write.

*  
Wardo flies to Miami to file some papers and when he comes back his mouth is thin and tight again and he wears a suit all the time again and he starts using that nasty word  _monetize_ again.

*   
And there is _just so fucking much to do_. There is always more to do.

*   
He worries about the servers, the network, the internal messaging system. There are kinks to work out, ideas to try, but mostly they are just trying to keep up with the traffic which is bordering on being a nightmare.

*   
This is big.

*   
_  
Big time.   
_

*   
He and Wardo hook up, when they can, when there is time, but there is really, hardly, ever ever time.

*   
He cannot look up from his computer long enough to make there be time and even though he hates that Wardo has a girlfriend he is glad he has someone to keep him company while he, Mark, has to work.

*   
He cannot _not_ work.

*   
Wardo is really nice about it, in his own quiet way.

*   
He is unobtrusive and he lets Mark do what he needs to do.

*   
Which is write.

*   
It is a compulsion, it is a drive beyond anything.

*   
He has to make the site keep up with the demand.

*   
Because it is _his._

*   
And it is the one thing he is really proud of.

*   
He cannot see anything else that is not white on black and blue on white and lines and lines and lines.

*   
He never sleeps, or if he does it is in snatches of ten and twenty and thirty minutes, when he wakes up in his chair with his neck lolling to the side and spit running down his chin or with a keyboard mash on the side of his face.

*   
It is not just him anymore. The interns come and set up camp in the room, Eric and Ian and Andrew and then Wardo comes and goes with beer and Red Bull and whatever junk they request but there is no time for him to have sex with Wardo and even if there was there would be no privacy because everyone is camped out in his suite and there is not ever enough time to go up to Wardo's room and do it like they should.

*   
Eduardo is paranoid that Christy will drop by unexpectedly, or that someone will hear them and start rumors.

*   
People poking one another in stairwells, in hallways, in the social room.

*   
_  
Poking.   
_

*  
 _Did you hear?_ and _no what? _ and _they say that.._.

*   
There is never enough time to get Wardo naked all the way or anything.

*   
It is always too rushed and too quiet and nothing like it was over break.

*   
It fucking sucks. 

*   
There is so much to do.

*   
He drops all the classes he can drop and still be registered.

*   
He changes every grade he can to Pass/Fail or an audit.

*   
He arranges to take his remaining finals early, so he can leave for Palo Alto right before reading week.

*   
Dustin and Chris will deal with getting themselves there and the interns there and Mark will already be there.

*   
There is no time to study. He probably won't even pass his remaining three classes, because he has not gone to class and he has not done the work.

*   
He's not even sure if he cares anymore.

*   
Being a Harvard student doesn't put you on the inside, really, why would being a Harvard graduate be any different?

*   
He reasons that it isn't different.

*   
_  
Fuck it.   
_

*   
Fuck Harvard.

*   
This is bigger than Harvard.

*   
He is so tired but he has to keep going, moving forward like a shark.

*   
Because nothing can crash, _nothing can go wrong._

*   
Nothing, nothing.

*   
He has to make sure that nothing _ever_ goes wrong.

*   
And there are more schools, and then more schools and the numbers keep inching up in the 40s and the 50s and the 60s and _the traffic the traffic the traffic._

*   
So.

*   
Much.

*   
Traffic.

*   
He ups the server space every week, it fees like, because nothing can go down, nothing can crash and the traffic.

*   
_  
The traffic.   
_

*  
His mom says  _California? _ and his father snorts derisively when she puts him on the line and he cannot wait to get as far from the Atlantic seaboard as he can get.

*   
California is where you go to start over.

*   
The Pacific is where things can be new.

*   
He temples hurt and his neck hurts and he eyes are burning and he does not even pretend like there is time to sleep.

*   
There is not time to sleep, so there is no time for Eduardo.

*   
He wishes he could make two of himself, three of himself, one dedicated only to running things through beta, and one for scripting and one to lie on top of Eduardo and rub his face against Eduardo's face.

*   
But there is only one of him.

*   
So he has to choose which of these things he cannot do.

*   
And there are stolen moments and a few handjobs and a blowjob in the bathroom and a single time in Wardo's room when everyone in Kirkland should be in class so Wardo is more relaxed and Mark can think about all the ways he wants to have him.

*   
But he knows it is just outside stuff.

*   
Because Eduardo does not belong to him.

*   
Not like facebook does, because that is his, and he made it, and it belongs to _no one but him_ , despite the money and despite the work it is his and his alone.

*   
Not like Wardo.

*   
Because other people have little pieces of Wardo, they have claims on him, too. His mother, his sisters, Christy, the Phoenix, the Young Investors, the suits of Madison Avenue, his father, his grandparents, the weight of all his history, the shit he's supposed to do, the man he is supposed to be, or the man he is supposed to become.

*   
So he can lie here and kiss Eduardo's closed eyelids for as long as he can and he knows, with aching sadness, that he cannot really ever have him.

*   
He says something, though, something they really should have talked about a long time ago.

*  
 _What is going on with Christy?_ he asks and then  _And what is going on with us? _ and he shocks himself because he cannot lay claim to Eduardo in any ways but through the ways they touch one another but he has still said this thing, this  _us._

*  
Wardo pinches the bridge of his nose and says _I don't even know, Mark_ and he says  _are you sleeping with her_ and he knows that Christy is some kind of nymphomaniac or whatever and when Wardo does not answer for a long time he just says  _it's okay, Wardo_ because he can only give Wardo so much of himself, the parts that aren't taken up by facebook, the ever-smaller parts of him that aren't about facebook, and so it is only fair that Wardo cannot give all of himself, either.

*  
 _Are you-- _ Wardo starts, and then stops, and then starts and says  _Is there anyone else? _ and Mark looks at him, right at him, and says  _no way, man _ and Wardo says  _but before?_ and he only tells him a little bit of the truth and he says  _there were, or there was, but not now _ and Wardo says  _really? _ and Mark does not know why he cares so much when Christy is still his girlfriend but he says  _no way, Wardo, I'm married to my work_ and Wardo laughs and then he has to go downstairs and write more and Wardo has to go to class.

*   
And that is all there is.

*   
He packs a bag of clothes and puts the rest of his stuff in garbage bags for his mom to pick up before the dorms close.

*   
He doesn't care about any of his stuff.

*   
If his mom had not mentioned it and offered to drive up and get it he would have just left it all there or thrown it in the dumpster.

*   
All he needs are his computers and his headphones and maybe a couple changes of underwear.

*   
And a swimsuit.

*   
For the pool.

*   
He totally rented the place with the pool.

*   
That is, like, all the stuff he needs.

*   
So he is busy and he is wired in all the time, all of the days, all of the hours, thinking about only the traffic and the servers and the clusters of those blue pins.

*  
Eduardo comes bursting in one afternoon while they are all hard at work and says, excitedly  _I got it!_ and everyone else says  _congrats!_ and  _good on you!_ and he says _got what_ but he does not look up until he can feel Wardo next to him staring at the side of his face and he says quietly,  _the internship at Lehman Brothers?_ and he says _internship_ and Wardo says  _do you not remember?_ and he is so overheated and so tired and he does not remember talking about any internship, not ever.

*   
That seems like the kind of thing he would have remembered.

*  
 _Oh_ he says  _oh._

*   
He really does not remember.

*  
He is staring at Wardo's shoulder and hearing words drift past his ear like  _last summer_ and  _work experience_ and  _generate advertiser interest _ and  _before I graduate_ because he cares he wants to graduate from Harvard and then Wharton and he wants to be a CEO or a COO or a CFO he wants to be a big deal of his own, is what he wants and he is not always going to be there and _Mark are you listening?_

*   
_Oh _   
he says again.

*   
He nods when he says this.

*  
 _Congratulations_ he says.

*   
He swallows when he says this.

*  
And then, almost as an afterthought,  _what about California _ and Wardo is looking at him and says  _did you not hear what i just said_ and Mark nods twice, and his neck is so stiff and he says  _good, okay,_ then and he turns back to his computer.

*  
He knows Eduardo is still watching him, looking at the side of his face so he hands him an empty can from his desk without looking up and says  _while you're up can you bring me another _ and Wardo takes the Mountain Dew can and their fingers touch and then he walks away and leaves, but not before bringing Mark back a full can, first.

*   
Who the hell is going to clean up in California if Wardo is not there?

*   
Who will order the food?

*   
He does not want to take care of Dustin or Chris or the interns.

*   
And if Wardo is not going to be there (Wardo is not going to be there), then he is going to have to do it, _all by himself._

*   
He really does not want to.

*   
There are too many scripts that are still unwritten for him to have to deal with that kind of shit.

*   
He can't go on beer runs, he has important shit to do.

*   
_  
Fuck.   
_

*   
His flight is booked for a Sunday because the lease starts on a Sunday and he wants to work through up to the very end and his legs are so heavy and he needs to lie down and the numbers just keep getting bigger.

*  
But Wardo comes in and in front of everyone says  _Mark's last day is going to be this Friday, okay guys?_ and he sees this register and he does not protest.

*   
On Friday he says goodbye to everyone and Wardo carries his stuff to a cab and they leave Cambridge heading east to a hotel, a nice hotel.

*   
He falls asleep in the taxi on the way there.

*  
Then there is a hotel room with white sheets that are clean and cool against his cheek and there is sex, too, over too quickly and then there is room service and Wardo asks what he wants and his throat hurts and his head hurts and his stomach is churning from weeks of nothing but Red Bull and pretzel sticks and he cannot bear the idea of food so he says  _ice cream._

*   
He eats some ice cream and falls asleep again.

*   
He wakes up to pee and then he looks at Wardo for a long time, who is sleeping next to him.

*   
And then he has to wake Wardo up so they can have sex again.

*   
The second time they do it the lights are all off and everything is gray and blue in the half light and Wardo is underneath him and he smells like sleep and they do not move so much as rock into one another.

*  
There is a shower and there is more room service and more sleep and then a third time, where Wardo wraps his legs tight around Mark and twines his arms with Mark's like they are snakes in a basket and that time the daylight is bright and they have not left the room for a whole day and it feels like Spring Break again and he does not want to get off, he does not want it to be over and so when Wardo is like whimpering and saying  _please, Mark, please move_ he does not even want to.

*   
He tries to stay awake after he comes, even though he holds off as long as he can, because he knows he is going to pass out again.

*   
Which he does.

*   
He cannot keep his eyes open.

*   
He wakes up to the beeps of three different alarms and the ring of the phone with his fingers laced in Wardo's fingers even though they are on opposite sides of the bed and there is a lot of space between them.

*  
Wardo is slow to get up and Mark thinks maybe there will be a round four but Wardo is nothing if not punctual and he says _you'll miss your flight _ and Mark wants him to come, too, wants to rent a car at Logan and drive it cross country, just the two of them, nothing but road and burger wrappers on the backseat and shitty creepy motels in the Dakotas and Utah and then the Bay Area and lying by the pool and  _a billion dollars_ but this cannot happen.

*   
They cannot have any of _this_ , and they cannot even have sex one more time because Wardo is so worried that they will be late.

*  
So he presses his body against him for one long minute and then they get dressed in a hurry and take a cab in a hurry and are checking him in in a hurry and drinking one last hurried cup of coffee in a Dunkin' Donuts before the security check and Wardo says  _I'll call you_ and Mark says  _cool_ and then they kind of hug for a second and Mark says  _I hate goodbyes _ and Wardo says _I'll see you later in the summer, then _ and Mark says _sure thing _ and then he goes and gets in line and turns his back because he does not want to watch the back of Wardo's head as he leaves.

*   
And then there is a waiting area where he falls asleep and a flight where he codes and his legs lose feeling and a layover and a cinnamon roll in Denver and a transfer and a bag of salted peanuts and six Cokes and then he is in California and the light is different and the house is there and Stanford is right there and Silicon Valley is right there and everything is different and everything has changed. 


	8. 1,000,000

*   
And then it is warmer than Boston and there is sunshine all the time and getting things off Craigslist and a Costco membership, which was Wardo's idea. He rents a car for the first three days to stock the fridge and cart single mattresses around.

*   
He pays the rent up front through the end of August, so he won't have to worry about it again.

*   
He does think to ask if it's possible to extend the lease.

*   
_  
Just to see.   
_

*   
It's fine, but they have to tell him by August 1st about the house.

*   
That's good to know.

*   
_  
Just in case.   
_

*   
So then everyone is there and Dustin has the idea about the zipline and that's a great idea and then Sean is at the door acting like he didn't give Mark the address of this and five other potential rentals.

*   
Sean is being weird.

*   
But he's so awesome.

*   
He has a chick with him.

*   
He only sees her the one time.

*   
Sean is always with a different girl.

*   
That must be amazing.

*   
Just to be that smart and still be able to bang a Victoria's Secret model.

*   
What the hell is that about?

*   
He used to whack off to his mom's Victoria's Secret catalogues when he was home for breaks from Exeter.

*   
And now he, Mark Zuckerberg of Dobbs Ferry New York is sitting in some crazy flashing club with the guy who invented Napster and a Victoria's Secret model and all this dot-com madness and it is crazy.

*   
It feels both more and less nice than it should.

*  
Because on the one hand he is now  in, he is at the stable center of a spinning something and it is big time.

*   
Kind of a big deal.

*   
"A once in a generation _holy shit_ idea," says Sean, and Mark knows that he is so fucking right.

*   
A hundred schools by the end of the summer.

*   
That's no problem.

*   
They're already in the 80s.

*   
They need more help.

*   
They need more money.

*   
Like, a big shitload of money.

*  
Not an advertising trickle which is what Wardo seems to be always talking about when he calls, when he calls and Mark is still actually coding while Wardo talks because the traffic  the endless _endless traffic_ and they need more server space again and then again and then again.

*  
 _Two continents_ Sean says and it knocks the wind out of him.

*   
This is beyond the money, this is bigger than money.

*  
He made something important. Something people want. Something people  _need._

*   
People on two continents are going to need facebook by the end of the summer.

*   
My fucking God.

*   
That.

*   
_  
Wow.   
_

*  
And that is him being on the inside, that is him making it, that is  _fuck you dad, fuck you Harvard, fuck you bastards who didn't appreciate me when I was a coding whiz geek and you were laughing from behind the velvet ropes._

*   
_  
I'm inside now, you pricks.   
_

*   
This is the back room.

*   
This is the high stakes poker game.

*   
This is what it feels like behind the velvet rope.

*   
He should be laughing.

*   
He should be a lot happier.

*   
Because he feels itchy on the inside instead of happy.

*   
He should be happy.

*   
But in here, it doesn't actually feel that great.

*   
Because everyone is still so beautiful.

*   
And it is still so loud.

*   
And it smells like tequila and perfume and the bricks of an old forgotten movie palace and it makes him really sad, although he does not know why.

*   
Because of course he lives facebook. He is facebook, and it is him.

*   
He made it, just as much as it makes him who he is.

*   
_  
Of course he lives it.   
_

*   
Of course he does.

*   
That's not even a question. 

*   
So then Sean is living there and with Sean living there Mark does not have to do anything but write and run scripts and up the server space and Sean makes the Costco runs and Sean brings back beer and Red Vines and pizza puffs and there are maps and white boards and takeout for days and all of the blue pins.

*   
They pass a hundred schools and keep going.

*   
This is a sprint.

*   
It is an avalanche.

*   
It is a landslide.

*   
150,000

*   
On Memorial Day they had a cookout and played volleyball in the pool.

*   
160,000

*   
They do no such thing on the Fourth of July.

*   
170,000

*   
There is not time for a cookout.

*   
180,000

*   
Mark can hear the fireworks going off over the city, far to the west, and he wonders what people have been doing all day.

*   
190,000

*   
Independence Day in Boston, home of the American Revolution.

*   
200,000

*   
He does wonder what that would be like.

*   
And there are people working extra guys who are Sean's friends and people he doesn't know and he is never sleeping, never enough.

*   
210,000

*   
Wardo calls but it is always through a sea of fog that he hears him.

*   
220,000

*   
No one is using the pool any more.

*   
230,000

*   
Not even Sean.

*   
240,000

*   
He does not rub Mark's back.

*   
250,000

*   
But he cannot stop to worry about his back.

*   
260,000

*   
Because then they are in a hundred schools.

*   
270,000

*   
100 schools.

*   
280,000

*   
110

*   
120

*   
130

*   
290,000

*   
140

*   
150

*   
160

*   
300,000

*   
Three hundred thousand members in a hundred and sixty schools three of which are in the fucking United Kingdom on the other side of the goddamn Atlantic ocean and it is big it is big it is bigger than this house, this room, this city.

*   
It is too much to believe.

*   
And it is is growing.

*   
It is not stopping.

*   
It is not plateauing.

*   
_Ride the wave _   
Sean says, as he brings him another beer and pats him on the shoulder.

*   
Everyone is working around the clock and they need more of everything and no one is using the pool and Eduardo is not there and he wishes there were any part of his body that was not so tired, a part of him that was able to care.

*   
They have 300,000 members in a hundred and sixty schools on both sides of the Atlantic and it is bigger than him, and it is bigger than Sean, and it is definitely bigger than Eduardo, who shows up soaked in the rain at the end of August.

*   
He does not expect to be at Harvard for Wardo's senior year, his final year.

*   
Before he thought it was about the Phoenix, which is why he is not as upset as he once thought he was.

*   
But he can see now that this is much more important than any final club could ever be.

*   
Those clubs are exclusive.

*   
They would not let him in.

*   
He is no longer just behind the velvet rope he owns the club itself, he owns the building, he owns the street.

*   
He is not waiting in line.

*   
He is not waiting for an invite.

*   
_  
No fucking way is he going back to that shit.   
_

*   
Caribbean night at AEPi is a thing of the past.

*   
No way is he going back to that life.

*   
He is staying another month, or a year, or possibly the rest of his life.

*   
He has already requested a leave of absence from school, and Dustin has done the same.

*   
Although Chris has not.

*  
So he knows he is staying longer, that he is not going back at the end of the summer that this is too big  _too fucking big _ to be based out of a three-bedroom suite at Kirkland House and he sees like a map in his head like a neon map what Sean is saying about the money and the big players and the need to catch the marlin.

*   
Wardo is paying penny slots with advertisers from the Cambridge Yellow Pages and _how the hell is that enough?_

*   
They need an office and a staff and more equipment and more server space always always more server space.

*   
This is big.

*  
Put all your chips down on red or black or  _blue blue blue._

*   
Go big or go home.

*   
He gets it.

*   
This is no time to cash your chips in.

*   
Wardo _still_ does not get it.

*

Still.  


*   
Sean is not perfect, and he does not like him like he likes Wardo but he takes care of things and Mark does not have to talk to anyone or set up anything or deal with the feelings that happen when he is around Eduardo and he does not have to make any decisions and all that is asked of him is that he write until he cannot do it anymore and then crash and then do it again and that is all and he never has to get dressed or go anywhere or put on his shoes or talk to strangers and it is _just easier._

*   
There is a level he has passed that is beyond tired and beyond loopy and beyond delirious and he has all of the ideas.

*   
Great ideas.

*   
_Game-changers,_ like they say in business, Sean tells him.

*   
Game-changers.

*   
_I'm just calling it the wall _   
he tells Eduardo, who is wet and sniffy and who does not look as happy to see Mark as Mark is to see him.

*   
Plus Sean is there.

*   
But _lots_ of people are there.

*   
Ian, and Andrew, and Eric and some random girls and Dustin and Chris and him and Sean.

*   
But Wardo only wants to talk about Sean.

*  
 _Why is he here_ and  _what is he doing setting up meetings_ and then  _what do you mean get left behind._

*   
He tries to explain.

*   
It makes so much more sense when Sean explains it.

*   
It's exactly right, that's just it.

*   
But when he says it the words come out twisted and not as clear as Sean's and probably that is because Eduardo is wet like he was back in the Kirkland bathroom, like he was in their hotel room before he flew out to the west coast and because he is exhausted.

*   
He has never been so happy to see anyone in his life.

*   
But he cannot make Eduardo see. 

*  
But he said  _please_ and everything.

*  
He _never_ says  please.

*  
Then there is a long pause of silence and he says _you're tired _ which is meant to have that subtext that he can sometimes encode and he says  _you're tired _ which is supposed to mean  _come upstairs and let me lick the water off your skin_ and he says it three times and Wardo says  _yeah, I am_ and goes and crashes on one of the mattresses in the front bedroom and he does not come sleep in Mark's bed like he was supposed to.

*   
He is too tired to try and make Wardo see but he is going to try in the morning when they get up and neither one of them is quite so tired.

*   
And then he will make sure Sean is playing Green Day or Black Flag very loudly from the speakers in the dining room and he will be able to take a break and kiss Wardo on the mouth like it has been a very very long time since he has been able to do.

*   
Eduardo is gone when he gets up, but he does not have time to call him because they have to go to Costco in the morning, and they stop to cash a check on the way. He sends a text from the car but gets no response.

*   
The account has been frozen.

*   
There is no more account for facebook.

*   
_  
Wardo has frozen the account.   
_

*   
But he does not have time to be angry, really, because then he is being driven to another meeting in the city and his knees are shaking and it is okay because Sean knows this stuff, he knows this world he isn't trying to nickel and dime ad execs he knows how to play with big stakes.

*   
Half a million dollars.

*   
_  
Half a fucking million dollars.   
_

*   
Holy shit.

*   
Thiel is an angel.

*   
He calls Wardo who is back in New York or Boston or Miami or wherever he has gone off to after he froze their fucking account and he is angry but then he is not angry because it is all going to be okay, _everything will be okay._

*   
Half a million dollars and everything has changed, once again.

*  
And on the phone he says it for the first time to Wardo, he says this _we_ and it means  _come be with me _ because facebook, no matter what it says on the ownership papers or the stock options or the shares, no matter what it says it is not  ours it is  _mine._

*  
But he says _I need my CFO_ and if he were any other person he would say what he is supposed to, in that moment, but he does not.

*   
He does not tell him when he flies back out in a rush, taking the next flight from JFK.

*  
He does not tell him when there are percentages changing around and numbers being flung at him left and right and words he kind of understands like  _new investors _ and _corporate restructuring_ and he nods and looks at things with bleary raw eyes that are seeing all these zeros and the outside of an office building that is all stucco and smoked glass and thousands of lines of code still to write and a staff to oversee and _everything has changed._

*   
He sort of understands what is going on.

*   
But he lets everything happen.

*   
He just lets things happen.

*   
He is not good at this other stuff.

*   
Because now he has an office and a staff and a desk and interns and all the server space he could ever really need, but he still cannot say the things he should.

*   
They go into the bathroom and Wardo hangs his jacket on the inside of the stall of the men's room and they do nothing more than kiss in the stall and suddenly it is like that time in the club with Christy and Alice but this time nothing in between them.

*   
No one is between them.

*  
They go back into the office and drink a beer and Wardo says  _remember the algorithm_ and he says  _yeah _ but that was just a tiny little piece of everything that he made. Even though _he_ made it, he built it, really.

*   
But he pretends that they both made it.

*   
_  
They did not.   
_

*   
There was money but it was never about the money.

*   
Not ever, not really.

*   
It is nice that Wardo is there.

*   
He'll get it, he'll get it.

*   
He left his jacket in the bathroom stall and goes to retrieve it. 

*  
He told Mark that he broke up with Christy, but he does not say anything about being together like  _that._

*   
Mark knows that he has to be okay with this.

*   
They are three thousand miles apart and that is just how things are.

*   
He doesn't have time for sex, really, he hardly even masturbates, and when he does it is mindless, in the shower at odd times of day or night, done almost out of blind habit more than anything.

*   
It keeps him going.

*   
Like caffeine and sugar and twenty minute naps it keeps him going.

*   
It is all so different.

*   
Everything has changed.

*   
Wardo is not his boyfriend.

*   
He does not even have the time to be gay or be in a thing with someone, so that's okay.

*   
He's okay.

*   
Keep the cursor moving to the right.

*   
Watch the numbers ratchet up.

*   
He is married to facebook.

*   
It is his family, and his partner, and his friends and his colleagues and the children he hasn't had yet and maybe never will.

*   
And that, in its own way, is like fidelity.

*   
So he is not fucking anyone else.

*   
He is not doing anything at all like what he did back at school.

*   
He doesn't have the energy to even care.

*   
He is only doing this one thing, this one thing all of the time.

*   
_  
All of the time.   
_

*   
He has a furnished single apartment now that he never sees and a blur of people walking past his desk every day and Dustin trying to be goofy but Chris is back at Harvard and Wardo isn't there and they chat and email sometimes but there is never really time to talk, for either of them.

*  
Sean is there and he is cool and he says things like _her?_ and  _you just need to get your rocks off, brother_ and Mark just lets Sean deal with it, with all of it, because he needs Sean to deal with everything that he cannot but he does not tell him _this one thing._

*   
But he thinks about the shower at Kirkland and he thinks of Wardo's face, and he knows that Stanford has a great MBA program, for the next year, or the year after that.

*   
Right now facebook is the most important thing in his world and Eduardo Saverin is a senior in the Phoenix S.K. Club at Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts which might as well be Mars, from where he's standing.

*   
But he promised to come back, for the millionth member party.

*   
And then he will take Wardo to a hotel and they will order room service again and it can be just them, like it was for a little while, and how it has never been since then.

*   
He will do that and everything will be okay, because it will be enough.

*   
He'll get it.

*   
_  
Right?    
_

*   
And then there is code and there are milestones and so many schools falling like dominoes one after another and it is still that landslide, still that avalanche and they are moving offices again and there are murals and video games and more server space and more interns.

*   
_  
A million people.   
_

*  
They are counting down the hours until  one million.

*   
There is a girl who comes around on Thursdays with a massage chair and she rubs people's necks for five and ten minute intervals but he does not let her rub his neck.

*  
Sometimes someone will come up and touch him, Sean or Dustin or someone and he will think, for one fleeting glorious second that they are back in the three-suite when everything was so new and he was so happy to finally be  on the inside and there were long fingers on his neck and it would snow outside, against the window.

*   
It was cold and it was beautiful and it was history and yet everything was so new.

*   
It never snows in California.

*   
His apartment complex has a pool, but he does not use it.

*   
The pool closes at 8 on weekdays and 10 on weekends and he is not back at home, usually, until the pool is closed.

*   
Or he sleeps.

*   
He has a couch near his desk and he uses it all the time.

*   
It's terrible for his back.

*   
Sean makes everyone get ergonomic chairs, when he sees Mark rubbing at his neck, but it is not the same.

*   
But there is no one there he wants to rub his neck.

*   
Sometimes he just crashes for the whole weekend and does not leave his apartment for anything

*   
People try to get him to come out, of course. There is always something going on but he makes excuses because he does not want to go.

*   
He has friends.

*   
He has plenty of friends.

*   
He has almost a million friends, through facebook.

*   
It should count for something.

*   
A million friends is so much more than just one friend.

*   
_  
Right?   
_

*   
He is the very still center of this huge spinning thing and he does not want to be around anyone.

*   
The office is open-plan but no one really comes over to his desk.

*   
Sean says he intimidates them.

*   
He cannot see why that would be.

*   
He's not scary, he never yells. His clothes look like everyone else's, he drives a car like everyone else's.

*   
He is still just Mark Zuckerberg from Dobbs Ferry, New York but out here, in California, people do not see that.

*   
He is not popular, even though he could be.

*   
He should have been, somewhere along the line.

*   
Because he has gone from geek to boss, and no one ever likes their boss.

*   
So he does not socialize with his employees, though he could.

*   
Sometimes he goes home on a Friday and orders something from down the street, because everywhere in Silicon Valley delivers and the pizza is okay, nothing like Emma's but it is okay and then he will watch something on his television and turn the air conditioning all the way up to pretend like it is cold outside, when it is not.

*   
It is not ever really cold in Silicon Valley. Not really.

*   
Then he will wake up and the sun will be beating down full force or it will be the next day's morning of gray or smoggy pink-streaked sunrises that he watches until he falls back asleep or decides to make the drive back in to the office, whichever comes first.

*   
So that, in its own way, is kind of like fidelity. 

*

Things are big.

*   
Things are _so big._

*  
And then Sean says  _Let's punk those Case Equity fuckers_ and they do and it is awesome and then suddenly there are offers on the table.

*  
There are offers and lawyers and all of a sudden he has  _people_ who are taking care of things and shaking his hand and patting him on the back and he, Mark Zuckerberg, who is not yet twenty-one years of age is suddenly even more important.

*   
And Sean is President so he deals with the messy stuff, which he knows is there, he knows of course that all of it is there.

*   
facebook is _his_ , of course he knows.

*   
But thirty-four percent is far too much when your CFO is not actually there, not actually doing his job.

*   
And he will be somebody on his own.

*   
_  
This is too big,   
_

*   
He is the coyote flattened by the steamroller in this thing that he made that is suddenly, suddenly so big.

*  
And there are handshakes and back-slapping and words like _casualty of war_ and  _friendly fire_ and  _remaining independent _ and he does not fool himself that he does not know what is happening.

*  
But surely he will see that this thing is bigger than either one of them could be, either of them independently, bigger even than the  _us_ that was never really there.

*   
And he will be his own somebody.

*   
He will graduate with honors and he will go to Yale or Cornell or Chicago or Wharton or God forbid, London, or maybe, God willing, Stanford.

*   
And it will be okay, later, _later on_ he will make it okay.

*   
This is no time to take your chips down.

*   
_  
How big can this game get?   
_

*   
It's not about the money.

*   
Not for one minute is it ever about the money.

*   
He is sitting at the poker table and he is building a house of cards and there is a tidal wave, there is a tsunami, there is an avalanche and he could not stop it, really, even if he wanted to.

*   
He can't stop it.

*   
He can't be the one to kill it.

*   
No way.

*   
_  
No fucking way.    
_

*   
He is being served with papers from those HarvardConnect assholes and he does not have time to deal with this shit.

*   
He does not have time to fucking jerk off how does he have time for this _bullshit._

*   
Those guys are fucking liars.

*   
He cannot deal with any of this shit.

*   
Not right now.

*   
He will deal with all of it when there is time but there is never _ever_ time.

*  
He has so many  _people_ , all of sudden.

*   
And Sean is President but Sean is something of a child, too.

*   
But he is something, he is there.

*   
But he is nothing but this thing, this thing he has made.

*   
A million members.

*   
A million people.

*   
And a million people is only the beginning.

*   
He knows that this is only the beginning.

*   
It's going to get bigger.

*   
Bigger than Harvard.

*   
Bigger than California.

*   
Bigger than _religion._

*   
He will make it happen.

*   
But he is so tired.

*  
And Sean is always saying  _her _ and  _what about that one_ and  _we should go get our drink on but no._

*   
Just, no.

*   
That sounds awful.

*   
He is really thinking it will all be okay, somehow, in the end.

*   
They are so close and there is an email and there is a party planned a big big party and he is not going to go.

*   
They will go to his place instead.

*   
He'll get it.

*   
_  
Right?   
_

*  
It is not until Eduardo is up in his fucking face and he is noticing that his nose is dusted with freckles and he must have gone to Miami or something for Thanksgiving and he is there and he is screaming and everyone is watching and  _you signed the papers_ and the _sorry_ he cannot say and then suddenly it is  _lawyer up asshole_ and he is  _CEO, bitch _ and then Wardo is not a part of anything anymore and Sean is an immature asshole and Dustin will not talk to him at all and suddenly he is the one in charge, all by himself.

*   
He is at the top.

*   
He is behind the velvet rope.

*   
It is not really all that fun.

*  
His mother is pissed at him and says  _don't come home for Chanukkah _ and Dustin won't talk to him and Wardo is gone.

*   
He is in his office when it becomes 2005.

*   
It is 2005 and everything, everything has changed. 


	9. Bruises

*   
They are well past a million members and he is CEO and everything is different.

*   
He buys a house.

*   
His mother is still very clipped on the phone, but she will talk to him for short stretches, which is all he can spare her, anyways.

*   
Eduardo graduates with honors, as he knew he would.

*   
There are pictures of the graduation on the Harvard website, which he looks at a lot.

*   
Eduardo does not have a facebook page anymore.

*   
He has deleted it or something.

*   
So he cannot check that.

*  
He turns twenty-one and Sean is all up in his shit about a party and says  _Ashleigh? Rebbecca? Claire? Sarah?_ and he spins around in his chair and says to Sean, _I don't really like girls, really _ and Sean is the first person he has ever said this to and there is a beat and a pause and then a slow-spreading grin of dawning recognition and Sean says  _dude, why didn't you tell me? I've been trying to get you laid for like a year and I've been barking up the wrong tree_ and he just spins in his chair and Sean says  _dude, the city is right there, the Castro is right there _ and he knows.

*   
Sean now knows and Dustin is talking to him again and Chris is planning to come back soon.

*   
Sean does not know about the other thing, the thing with Eduardo that was never really a _thing._

*   
But he know something Mark has never told anyone, not even really himself.

*   
So there is that. That is something.

*   
On his twenty-first birthday Sean takes him out, to a bar where there are no real girls.

*   
Sean is cool like that.

*   
He uses his real ID for the first time ever and gets hit on a lot and Sean gets him phone numbers and they drink tequila and it is actually nice to remember being sort of popular, somewhere.

*   
He had almost forgotten.

*   
It is not like being CEO.

*   
It is nice.

*   
No one makes him talk, not really.

*   
And when Sean is driving them back towards San Jose towards the sunrise after he has gotten a stack of phone numbers and been bought birthday shots and made out with a couple of strangers while Sean talks to the bartender, he remembers that he is still cute, in that way that other men like.

*   
So there is that.

*   
And that is something.

*   
And there are continued lawsuits and a plan to expand into high schools and he buys a house.

*   
And he is busy.

*   
Too busy.

*   
_  
So busy.   
_

*   
But Sean was right.

*  
The city is  _right there._

*  
The Castro is  _right there._

*   
It is not so bad.

*   
It is very easy. 

*   
His mother is talking about Rosh Hashannah but there is no time to fly back to New York because of the rollout in high schools.

*   
Autumn is a blur and there are more papers and his legal team has to hire outside counsel and there is so much, so much.

*   
He does not fly home.

*   
He does not leave his office.

*   
He does go into the city, on occasion.

*   
It is just so easy.

*   
No one makes him talk.

*   
He uses his old ID and he wears his baseball cap and he hires a towncar so he can get as drunk as he wants without worrying about driving or he rents a hotel room and stays there and he can bring people back with him and none of those men care who he is.

*   
None of them know that he is just Mark Zuckerberg from Dobbs Ferry New York, Harvard dropout.

*   
He is a college dropout.

*   
He is never going to have that degree from Harvard.

*   
But facebook was always going to be bigger than Harvard.

*   
So there is that.

*   
That is something.

*   
It is just so easy.

*   
It is so easy and there are legal fiascoes and more offers on the table and then it is 2006.

*   
It is 2006 and things have stopped changing but they have not stopped growing.

*   
The office is always full.

*   
He is not the only one working at eleven o'clock on Fridays anymore.

*   
Everyone is busy.

*   
Eduardo does not have a facebook page.

*   
There are valuations and offers and still, _still_ not taking the chips down.

*   
This is a wave beyond epic proportions and they are still riding it, really.

*   
He is.

*   
And everything is like this and everything is sort of maybe fine for most of 2006.

*   
And then there is being served with another set of papers on his way into the office at seven a.m. on a Sunday in November of 2006.

*   
And then everything changes again.

*   
Because now he knows why Eduardo does not have a facebook page.

*   
And that is why. 

*   
And then he is spiraling and he is no longer the still center of this huge spinning thing, he is spinning again.

*   
He knows what he has been doing, before, kind of.

*   
It is no accident that the people he takes home have eyes like chocolate.

*   
He is not an idiot.

*   
He knows, kind of, what that's about.

*   
But now it is different.

*   
After those papers.

*   
Now he does not care.

*  
And San Francisco is  _right there_ and the Castro is  _right there_ and Eduardo is not there.

*   
Because it is nothing like Boston, it is not even like New York.

*   
It is like the last days of Pompeii in San Francisco.

*   
He does not see daylight until 2007.

*   
He finds places that he never could have dreamed existed.

*   
And there is Craigslist.

*   
And there are saunas and bathhouses and, like he wondered about back in college, gay gyms.

*   
_  
Oh God, the gay gyms.   
_

*   
None of these people have been to his house.

*   
He very rarely goes to his house.

*   
It is too big for just him.

*   
The guys think he should get a cat or something, but he is not even around enough to feed a cat.

*   
Maybe the cleaning lady will feed the cat.

*   
Maybe he should think about that.

*   
So he goes out.

*  
So that is what he does when he is not at facebook or he is not sleeping, which is much more rare and he is doing what he always did, only this time he is not bringing back guys who look Mexican or Puerto Rican or Salvadorean and he is not saying _come on me_ like he did with them.

*   
Well.

*   
That part he does say.

*   
He says that all the time.

*   
For a lot of 2007 he says that.

*  
Through the billion dollar valuations and the endless meetings with legal and the user base that just will not stop growing until it is in the millions in the US and the millions in the UK and there are plans for Europe, and for Canada, and then projections for Asia and ideas about Hong Kong, and China and Malayasia and Japan and his temples throb all the time and his eyes hurt all the time and he cannot ever sleep until he has said  _come on me_ to someone, no matter who it is.

*   
2007 is kind of horrible.

*   
He does not have time to notice.

*   
He is only twenty-three.

*   
And then it is 2008 and there is a glass-topped conference table and two depositions going on at once and he knows that Eduardo Saverin, plaintiff, will be there and he wears his Northface because it feels like something and Wardo is only across the table, not as far away as he lives now (Singapore, the other side of the planet, where they still do not have facebook.)

*   
He could have a facebook page.

*   
He is an alum of Harvard University, he could have a facebook page.

*   
You don't even need .edu anymore.

*   
The site is so democratic now.

*   
It is no longer about exclusivity.

*   
He likes that better, nowadays.

*   
He is still sort of an asshole.

*   
He has always been an asshole.

*   
But he is not an idiot.

*   
He knows, kind of, what he is doing.

*   
He is still such an asshole.

*   
Maybe less than he was, but still.

*   
_  
But who wouldn't be.   
_

*  
He is twenty-three and he is just  _CEO_ now none of this juvenile  _CEO, bitch_ shit anymore.

*   
He is twenty-three and he presides over a company valued at over two billion dollars and they still have not taken their chips down.

*   
But Eduardo still does not have a facebook page.

*   
And Eduardo is suing him for all of the money.

*   
And Eduardo is wearing his suit. 

*   
And he is there and Eduardo is there but they cannot be alone.

*   
They are surrounded by lawyers and cameras and glass walls like they have everywhere here and he has not been home, yet.

*   
He does not even bother.

*   
Because he cannot just say any of those words he is supposed to be saying.

*   
And he is still really angry.

*   
Because Wardo _still does not get it._

*   
Eduardo still does not see.

*   
This is too big for Madison Avenue.

*   
This is 2008 and the company is valued in the billions and Eduardo is wearing a tie and suing him and still _still_ does not see that he was wrong.

*   
So he tries to forget.

*  
And he says  _come on me_ to strangers and Eduardo says  _you had one friend, I was your only friend_ and they both know that that is not true, that that is a lie.

*   
Because he had friends.

*   
He has facebook, although those people are not really his friends, of course.

*   
That would be ridiculous.

*   
But at Harvard, he had friends, tangible friends, flesh and blood people.

*   
Of course Wardo was his friend.

*   
__  
Of course he was.

*   
But he had more than Wardo.

*   
The guys in the CS lab, some of whom came out to Palo Alto later, and Chris and Dustin and Billy and Christy, kind of, even, and obviously Wardo, and maybe later Sean.

*   
He had friends.

*   
So that is a lie.

*   
Wardo is lying and he still does not get it.

*   
But Mark is sad.

*   
Because he knows it is a lie, and he sees the subtext for what it is.

*   
He's still not so good at that.

*   
With the words.

*   
Those are awful.

*   
But he tries.

*   
He tries to listen more.

*   
He wants to know what people are really saying.

*   
You have to listen if you want to know what they are thinking.

*   
Because it is not like facebook, where people tell you.

*   
And even on facebook people do not always tell the truth.

*   
That is another thing.

*   
No one ever says what they are thinking, not really.

*   
Not in conference rooms or dorm rooms or chat rooms.

*   
_  
Not really.   
_

*  
So he says  _I was your only friend _ and Mark does not believe that is what he means.

*   
Because he thinks what it means are those stupid words he never said, the ones he still can't say, even to his own mother, who he does really feel like they are true about.

*  
When they hang up the phone-- and they talk, now, every week for a while, although she still asks him if he's seeing anyone and he knows she means a girl-- when they hang up his mom will say  _I love you, honey_ and he wishes he could say it but he does say  _you too._

*   
And that is something.

*   
That is something that he is pretty sure Wardo is saying.

*   
But Wardo is suing him.

*   
And Wardo does not have a facebook page. 

*   
Other people have them. His sisters are on facebook. The Winklevoss twins have facebook, and Divya Narendra is on facebook, and Charlie is on facebook and Hunter is on facebook and everyone from his floor at Kirkland is on facebook and even Erica Albright is on facebook.

*   
Eduardo is not on facebook.

*   
He decides to see if Erica will be his facebook friend.

*   
He is sorry about the farm animals thing.

*   
But it was a catalyst.

*   
It made all this happen.

*   
Without that there would be no FaceMash and then there would have been no thefacebook and then no facebook.

*   
So she is important, even though she probably still hates him.

*   
That was mean, about her boobs.

*   
He didn't even really give a shit, about her boobs.

*   
He should say something.

*   
He hits refresh for a long time, a long long time.

*   
Because after this day he does not want to go back out.

*   
He does not want to lose himself in dark corners or theaters or arcades or on wooden gym benches or in alleys or hotel rooms or showers or any of the other millions of ways he could try and try to feel better.

*   
Because he does not feel guilty about any of that.

*   
He never has.

*   
Not ever, not once.

*   
But he is spinning out of control.

*   
facebook is huge and he just cannot hold it together any more.

*   
He is only twenty-four.

*   
The guys are worried and even Sean is worried and he is starting to be late coming in to the office and working from home which means not coming in and being away from his email and his phone for long stretches of time.

*   
Because they are settling and they are giving Wardo money, tons and tons of money and Wardo is going back to Singapore thinking it was about the money.

*   
_  
And it was never about the money.   
_

*   
But they settle, they pay him and they pay the Winklevoss twins and Divya and he works less and goes to the gym more, because there is always someone there, and he is always able to not think, at least for a little while.

*   
It is 2008 and he is a mess.

*   
There are tens of millions of members and the company is worth billions and he just does not even care and that is how the guys know that something is up.

*   
They are not stupid, none of them.

*   
They know.

*  
They take him out, Sean and Chris and Dustin and they say _dude _ and he tries to eat his fajitas but really he just feels so sick.

*   
It has been so long since anyone cared.

*   
Sean finds him a therapist.

*   
She is in the city and she is a young-looking dyke with short silver hair and black-plastic-framed glasses and she does not stand for any of Mark's bullshit.

*   
He appreciates that.

*   
Because no one tells you that when you are CEO people always agree with you.

*   
They will tell you how brilliant you are, how right you are, how great you are.

*   
No one will tell you no.

*   
_  
No one.    
_


	10. Apologia

*   
And she is sharp, sharper than Mark is, really.

*   
He goes to see her three times a week.

*   
He tells her everything.

*  
He tells her  _everything _ and she does not bat an eyelash.

*   
She is impossible to shock.

*   
And he has done some pretty shocking stuff.

*   
And she tells him to stop going to the gym and do something else.

*   
So he starts fencing again, he joins a club on the Peninsula.

*   
It's kind of nice.

*   
He missed it.

*   
There are rules.

*  
And he is not going to the gym because that is  _triggery_ and  _dissociating_ but he is coming into the city a lot more so he gets a small apartment there and he likes that, actually, more than he expected.

*   
The commute is a bitch, so he stays at the Palo Alto house, sometimes.

*   
He does not get a cat.

*   
He decides to get chickens, instead.

*   
His neighbors complain, at first.

*   
But then he starts bringing them a dozen eggs every week and they stop complaining.

*   
He eats a lot of eggs.

*   
When he is not there Luisa, the cleaning lady, feeds the chickens and gathers the eggs.

*   
She leaves food for him in the freezer, to heat up.

*   
He pays her _so much more_ than he should.

*   
His illegal immigrant cleaning lady has health insurance, which he pays for.

*   
And he tries to do big things, too.

*  
Chris takes care of that, the stuff they call  _philanthropy_.

*   
It makes him feel better.

*  
Even though it is not about the money.

*

 _  
Which it never really was.   
_

*   
So he comes and goes and he has two houses and people in his life and he is not sleeping at the office anymore.

*   
He likes his third-floor apartment in a dilapidated Victorian in the lower Haight where he can go for walks with his headphones on, like Theresa, his therapist, has suggested.

*   
And they talk about things and he tells her about all of the sex and she nods and she nods and she does not judge.

*  
Sean said  _don't worry, she's kink-positive_ and Mark now knows what that means.

*   
She's cool.

*   
She tells him all sorts of things.

*   
He learns all sorts of things.

*   
About women and how he feels about them, and self-hatred and parental issues.

*   
And the company is big, the site is so huge, but he is learning how to share it.

*   
Because they have hundreds of millions of users, now.

*   
And despite it being big, worth billions of dollars, it is not _just his._

*   
It belongs to everyone, now.

*   
Really, it does.

*   
He can see that.

*   
So he takes these walks and he looks at people and sometimes they look back and he always gives the pan-handlers crisp twenties from the ATM, because he can, and because he wants to.

*  
And he is not having any sex, not even jerking off because Theresa tells him about  _compulsive behavior_ and  _acting out_ and  _narcissistic personality disorder_ and he is really trying.

*   
He starts going to the pool and does laps.

*   
And when he is back at the Palo Alto house he uses the pool there, too, now.

*   
And he brings eggs into the office and he tries to smile more and people talk to him and it is okay and it is 2009.

*   
It is 2009 and he is in therapy and the CEO of a multibillion dollar company like _nothing_ the world has ever seen before.

*   
It is 2009 and there is a book and Eduardo Saverin is a consultant on it.

*   
He get an advance copy.

*   
He goes into the city and it starts all over again, after he has read the book.

*   
And it is bad. 

*   
He does not even really fall that far, not really.

*   
He just relapses.

*   
He gives someone head in a bathroom and then he lets someone else fuck him somewhere else and then he goes home and stands in the shower for a long time.

*   
It still feels really wonderful but it feels really wrong.

*   
So he calls in sick on Friday and calls his therapist and she slots him in even though it is a weekend.

*  
And he shows her the book and he talks about Eduardo Saverin, who was his best friend, not his  _only friend_ , but his best friend and who maybe could have been his _someone_ , or who was, for a little while, and he tells her everything he has never told anyone.

*  
He says _I want him back_ and he tells her about these daydreams he has sometimes where they will be friends again or kiss again and he will rent a convertible and they will go taste wine in Napa and Wardo will have freckles on his nose and it will all be different and it will all be okay.

*   
And for the first time she looks at him and she looks unsettled.

*   
That is the first thing he has ever said that made her look sad.

*  
And she reaches over, and touches his hand and he flinches only a hair and she says _no, honey, no,_ and he says  _why not, why not_ and she says  _it doesn't work like that._

*   
So he cannot try to get Eduardo back. That is not why he is supposed to be fixing himself.

*   
And that really fucking sucks.

*   
Because why do it, then? If not for him, then _why?_

*   
It takes him so long to see why.

*   
So long that the book is being optioned for a movie and it is 2010 and he cannot stop thinking about that stupid straw hat and Eduardo's face and he is so sorry, for everything.

*   
He still does not have a facebook page.

*   
He checks all the time.

*   
And he writes him emails, and he writes him texts, and he writes him notes and letters in longhand like Theresa says he has to do.

*   
He tells his mom that he loves her.

*  
 _I know,_ she says.

*

And then he tells her the other stuff, the gay stuff, and then she says, not sad at all, _I know that, too._

*   
He is a huge success and no one makes him put on a suit, ever.

*   
He is so sad, though.

*  
He has things in his life besides facebook and he is _making amends_ and _learning to compromise_ but he has not sent any of the emails, he has not sent any of the texts, and Eduardo still, still, in 2010, still does not have a facebook page.

*   
There is going to be a movie about that time of his life which will be splashed all over giant cinema screens all over the world and everyone will know what a snotty little prick he was when he was nineteen.

*   
And they will see that he hurt his friend, which is what the book says, it is all about the hurt that friends do to one another.

*   
Being stupid and arrogant and nineteen was only part of it.

*   
It was never the whole story.

*   
He is reading over the emails he has written.

*   
He must have a hundred of them, all stored in his drafts folder.

*   
He has so many.

*   
They are all slightly different, but they all more or less say the same thing.

*  
They say _I'm so sorry._

*  
They say  _I was an asshole._

*  
They say  _I'd like to buy you dinner sometime._

*  
They say  _I never told you how much I needed you._

*  
They say  _Can we try again._

*   
He is not supposed to write those or say those things, because Theresa says that is _not fair to Eduardo_ , who is also supposed to be moving on with his life, his life that he has on the other side of the world.

*   
So he does not send them. 

*   
He swims and he fences and he has chickens and he is CEO but there is more than being CEO and it is okay, kind of.

*   
They have 500 million members.

*   
One in every fourteen people in the world is on facebook.

*   
Eight percent of the population of the entire planet is on facebook.

*

He always knew it would be big.

*

 _  
But that is insane.   
_

*   
That is more than the population of the United States.

*   
He is allowed to be proud of this thing, even if he made bad choices along the way.

*   
His were just bigger because the stakes were so high.

*   
He does not regret any of it, even though all of it was hard.

*   
Because 500 million people and still growing.

*   
And he misses Eduardo but he is not so lonely.

*   
Eduardo is just a person, same as he is.

*   
He cannot plug the gaps.

*   
He cannot fill the holes.

*   
He was there for a little while.

*   
He misses him every day.

*   
He is not an idiot.

*   
He knows he should have done it all differently.

*   
But it is _done_ and this is where they are. It is 2010 and they have 500 million members and a site worth 50 billion dollars and maybe he wasn't ever supposed to have the things that other people do, like love and stuff, and maybe he will someday, but probably not now.

*   
And then it is September and he is running new features through beta. Sean is on vacation somewhere tropical, but he is not such a bad guy, even if he is skeevy sometimes. He is okay, he is like Theresa, nothing shocks him. A chat window pops up and it is Dustin and then Chris jumps on.

*   
dustinm: dude what up

chrish: it's high holidays soon

dustinm: we should all go

markz: i'm an atheist now

dustinm: but you know

chrish: right, yom kippur is coming up

markz: is this you trying to say s/thing?

dustinm: don't be a twat

chrish: we're just saying

markz; that i need to wear a kippeh? i'm only 25 i'm not balding am i?

dustinm: lol no shut up

chrish: we were just thinking

markz: ???

dustinm: dude, yom kippur

chrish: dude, seriously

markz: stop calling me dude

dustinm: your draft folders

chrish: forgiveness, right?

markz: did you guys hack my email again?

dustinm: lol you keep it open all the time

chrish: no hacking required ;)  


markz: what are you saying?

dustinm: just hit send, srsly

chrish: yeah, do it

dustinm: and then we're taking the day off, all three of us

chrish: no arguing!

markz: you're taking me to services :/

dustinm: we'll buy you chinese after

chrish: promise :)  


markz: we'll see, ok?

  
*   
He reads the emails.

*   
He rereads all of the emails from four o'clock until the sun sets and it is Shabbos and he did not even notice.

*   
There are people in the office and he is not alone and he has stuff to go home to that is not facebook and it is 2010 and it is okay.

*   
There is another message from Dustin.

*   
dustinm: just hit send, mark

*   
He picks an email.

*   
He signs his name.

*   
He does not say the unfair stuff.

*   
But he says the other stuff.

*   
And maybe he will not even read it.

*   
Maybe it will route straight to a spam folder or his trash can.

*   
Maybe he will read it and delete it.

*   
Maybe he will never read it.

*   
Maybe it is enough to send it into the ether, through fiber-optic cables across the ocean, through binary and ASCII on either end, and maybe that will have to be enough.

*   
He is hoping for forgiveness.

*   
But he cannot foresee what will happen next.

*   
The next part is up to Eduardo.

*

 _Who he loves, more than anything. _

*   
He sees all that now.

*   
He has moved beyond sorry.

*   
Because he has to go on, they both do.

*   
He has to move forward like a shark or he will die.

*   
But he is allowed to hope.

*   
He is allowed to hope for forgiveness.

*   
He hits send and even though it is stupid, he crosses his fingers when he does so.

*   
He hopes it is enough. 


End file.
